#there was so much potential. and they just.........

[some-zer0]

@ Heinrich Unheimlich:

[kitten4sannie]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

pairing: dilf next door! yunho x fem! reader

genre: neighbor au, fluff, smut

summary: you try your next door neighbor on for size when your date cancels on you last minute.

w.c: 3.8k

warnings: yuyu is in his late 40s 🙂‍↕️, controversial spider-man takes LMAO, wine drinking (they are tipsy at most!), brief play fighting, (mostly) dom switch! yuyu but he also whimpers and whines 🙂‍↕️, subby switch! reader, big dick yuyu agenda ‼️, praise/pet names only, teasing (only a lil bit while he talks reader thru it uwu), brief spit kink, kissing, dry humping, fingering, face sitting, size kink >:))), bulge kink, creampie 💕

a/n: hihi i’m back! this fic is dedicated to my dearest bestie tasha @ildangtaek i love you so very much :(( and happy birthday againn i hope your special day was as lovely as you are <33 there really wasn’t much inspo for this i just ❤️ dilfs with my whole kitty esp when it’s yuyu uwu enjoy xx

p.s: thank you so very much for 7k followers! it’s still so unreal to me 🥹💕

song recs: new light — john mayer, boy is mine — ariana grande, plants — crumb

“So…you’re not coming…?” you asked your potential date through your speaker phone, slowly sitting back down in front of your vanity mirror, your puzzled reflection staring back at you. 

You listened to his vague explanation about how he wasn’t quite ready to take this next step with you, whatever that meant. All you were going to do was eat dinner and chat, not exchange marriage vows. He hung up before you had the chance to tell him how silly he sounded. Sulking, you shuffled into your bathroom to undo all the effort you put into looking like a five course meal for an undeserving stranger. 

Halfway through washing your face, you heard your oven timer go off. You completely forgot about the pizza you had made in a rush for you and your date to share. Pulling it out of the oven with a small sigh, you couldn’t help but stare at the unopened bottle of wine on the counter. It would’ve been entirely too easy for you to just get drunk, eat the entire pizza, and cry yourself to sleep afterwards, but a tiny voice inside the back of your mind told you to invite your cute neighbor over instead — even if he was a lot older than you. Would that be so bad? 

The phone only rang for a second before Yunho picked up. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?” Was it uncouth to answer right away or to let it ring for a while longer? He wasn’t sure what the younger crowd preferred nowadays, but he was sure that he wouldn’t let an opportunity to chat with his pretty neighbor slip away. 

“Hey, Yunho!” you began, rolling a metal slicer through the thick crust of your homemade pizza. Your neighbor always sounded so happy when you called him. You could practically hear his imaginary tail wagging. Was he like this with everyone? “What are you up to?”

Yunho’s voice sounded a bit farther away and somewhat strained when he spoke again. “Just fixing up my garden. Oh! My honeysuckles finally bloomed!”

“Already? That’s great!” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He was so cute. “So, uh, long story short, my date canceled on me after I made us pizza...There’s wine too.” You bit into your bottom lip, wondering just how desperate you were about to sound. 

“What a dickhead. Why would anyone cancel on you? I mean, you’re so–” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Cool, you know…” Yunho set his gardening trowel down onto the fresh patch of dirt in favor of bonking himself lightly on the side of the head. 

“Thanks, Yun,” you giggled, curling a lock of hair around your finger. You swallowed down your doubt before it overtook you. “Did you wanna, like…hang out?”

Maybe Yunho didn’t fumble, after all. “I’d love to, Y/N.” He looked at the freshly bloomed flowers sitting in front of him. It was fate. “I’ll be right over, okay? Wait for me~” 

“See you~” you replied, matching his tone. Once you hung up, you looked down at the comfy hoodie and sleep shorts you had slipped into. You only had a few seconds to wonder if you should change or not before your doorbell rang. 

Yunho’s honey brown eyes widened upon seeing you, his cheeks growing warm. “H-hey, Y/N!” He nervously shuffled his feet, his scuffed Converse squeaking against the rubber doormat. He moved his arm in an odd way; it was clear he was holding something behind his back. 

“I know it’s not technically a date, but I thought I should bring you something…” 

Yunho held out a bouquet of freshly picked honeysuckles, ones that were delicately tied together with some pretty lace. You looked down at them in disbelief, gently taking them into your arms. Tears threatened to leave your eyes when you tilted your head back up to meet Yunho’s gentle gaze. “Thank you so much…I…Are you an angel?” 

A big cheesy smile spread across Yunho’s face. “Just your friendly neighborhood gardener.” 

And with that, you moved aside to let him in, mirroring Yunho’s infectious smile.

-

“Nice place,” Yunho approved in an oddly soft tone, looking around your cozy living room. Taking a sip of wine, he meandered over to your impressive media cabinet, scanning all the various movies that neatly lined the shelf. “I haven’t seen a DVD in ages…” He turned his head to look at you, his eyes crinkled with amusement. “I didn’t know you were old school.” 

You let out a small snicker, pulling out one of the DVDs to run a finger along the smooth edges. “I’ve always preferred physical copies. Digital just isn’t the same…” You met his wholehearted gaze, your heart skipping a beat. “You know…?” You were so close to him, you were able to notice his pronounced smile lines as soon as his lips curled up. 

“You’re speaking my language, kiddo.” Yunho took another sip from his glass, looking off to the side. He shook his head absentmindedly, reminiscing about something. “Everything was so much better in the early 90s…” 

You pouted, gently elbowing him through his shirt. “Hey, I wasn’t even born yet.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” He took in a sharp breath, holding it for a second. Once he let it out, he just about deflated like a balloon. “I’m old…aren’t I?” 

Scoffing, you mindlessly flipped the DVD around in your hands. “We’re all aging.” You hoped you weren’t looking too deeply into his eyes. “Why does it matter what step you’re at?” 

Yunho was captivated. He hadn’t felt this kind of acceptance in quite some time. “I’ll try to think of it like that,” he voiced softly, reaching up to pat the top of your head. “Thank you.” 

A simple head pat from your seasoned neighbor shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, heat creeping up on your cheeks, the DVD creaking in protest inside your tight grasp. “Y-you better.” 

“O-oh?” Yunho was caught off guard by your bold words, surprised by his body’s immediate response to it. He slowly lowered his glass, trying to casually hide his half-chub from view. “I will then…” 

You tapped your finger rhythmically against the DVD, delighted with the sheepish look on the older man’s face. You wanted to attribute your growing confidence to the alcohol settling inside your stomach, but you knew you would’ve tested the waters either way. And with that, you reached all the way up to pat the top of his head. “Good.” 

There was an electric current of sorts lighting up the edges of Yunho’s brain — one that would spark sooner rather than later. Before he could say anything that might scare you off, he finally took a look at the DVD you had been holding. “Is…is that the original Spider-man?” 

“Thought you would never notice,” you giggled, his long fingers overlapping yours when you handed it to him. “I have one and two. Three doesn’t exist in my mind.”

Yunho was sure he met his perfect match. “We’re watching them,” Yunho decided for the both of you, his eyes widening with excitement. “Right now.” 

You leaned in a bit closer to him. “What are you waiting for? Put it in.” 

He leaned back. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

-

It took finishing the cheap bottle of wine and movies together for you both to finally let totally loose around one another, though your matching flushed cheeks and sweaty palms weren’t a result of being tipsy. It was simply a side effect of being around each other. You were so engrossed with one another, that you didn’t even bother turning the TV off, simply letting the DVD icon freely bounce into each corner of the screen for what seemed like hours. 

Yunho couldn’t quite finish chewing the crust of his slice of cold pizza before he explained with his mouth full, “Peter knowingly killed Harry’s father. Harry following in the footsteps of his dad and becoming the Green Goblin was inevitable.” 

“You having delusional takes was inevitable,” you shot back, getting so worked up over this nonsensical argument that you almost choked on your own slice of pizza. “I should’ve known that as soon as you said Spider-man 2 was mid.” 

Yunho pressed closer to you, gently reaching up to squish your cheeks together. “Aww, someone’s grumpy.” 

Your body was beginning to overheat. He was so close to you, and he smelled so good, fresh like cool eucalyptus, and warm like burning sage. You almost couldn’t focus on getting under your older neighbor’s skin, your words coming out a bit garbled when you provoked him, “Harry was a terrible Venom, by the way.” 

Yunho let out a sharp, offended gasp. “You take that back!” he demanded jokingly, pretending to lunge at you, his hands instead stopping short of touching your shoulders, his breath getting caught inside his throat when you decided to actually lunge back.

“Never!” It was surprisingly easy to take down someone who was almost twice the size of you, but you knew internally Yunho was letting it happen. You almost wished he would give you the same treatment. 

Yunho fell back against the couch cushion, his limbs sprawled out, except for one of his thighs, the one you were haphazardly sitting on. He began blocking your feeble attempts to tickle him, not putting a whole lot of effort into getting you off of his lap. “Admit it was peak cinema, will you?” He sounded out of breath, but not for the right reason. 

“Maybe if you admit I’m right,” you sighed out, not stopping your pursuit until you finally had his obnoxiously long body pinned underneath your significantly smaller one. Now straddling his hips, you closed your fingers around his wrists to keep him still. You were hunched over now, only a few inches away from Yunho’s reddened face, feeling him move against you, causing friction in between your thighs. You quickly bit into your bottom lip, your brows joining ever so slightly. Yunho wasn’t answering you, just looking up at you with his big glossy eyes. It was driving you crazy. “Lemme hear you say it…” 

Yunho blew a few dyed dirty blond locks out of his view. Everything was moving so fast a second ago, and now, it felt like slow motion. He watched as your zip-up hoodie slipped down one of your shoulders, immediately distracted by your thighs once he readjusted his own. Your tiny shorts were riding up, leaving little to imagination. “You’re right,” your neighbor exhaled out, his soft breath hitting the bottom of your chin. 

Yunho sure had a big smile for someone who had just lost an argument, fake or not, and that’s when it hit you, or poked you, rather. You had been sitting directly on Yunho’s clothed cock, now feeling it throb against your exposed core through the thin material of your shorts. This sudden discovery could no longer go unnoticed. “That’s…what I thought,” you huffed, dragging your hips forward in a slow, methodical manner, drawing a long, airy moan out of your older neighbor. 

“I-if you do that, I’ll, nnngh–” Yunho tossed his head back into the couch, feeling your equally sweaty hands slipping off of his wrists, your palms pressing into his warm chest. His hands were drawn to your hips like magnets, enclosing around them, his fingers so long and slender that they touched at the small of your back. “This is what you wanted all along, huh? You should’ve said something, kiddo…” 

“Aren’t you the one who got hard five minutes into our date? Don’t think I didn’t notice,” you teased him back, trying to distract him from the fact that you were actively leaving a wet patch on Yunho’s tented pants. 

“So, it is a date,” the older man breathed out, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips in between his fingers from underneath your hoodie, purposely dragging you across his manhood, before staying still, like he was testing the waters. “Aren’t I a lucky man?” 

You just about melted from his sudden display of dominance over your body, now needing more, as though you were just introduced to a new drug. “Sh-show me…how lucky you are.” He waited silently below you, quirking his head to the side, before you realized. 

“Please.” 

“Good girl.” It seemed like his hips began to move without his permission, rolling them up into you, his movements disjointed and sloppy. Desperate. He was desperate for you, his lovely little neighbor, the one he had spent countless days and nights yearning for. “Fuck, is this okay…?” he still found himself asking you from underneath his breath, needing more confirmation, despite actively making you grind against him like it was going out of style. 

“Yeahh,” you gasped, just as you completely relinquished your feigned control, Yunho manually guiding your hips along his trapped, aching cock, the frantic pursuit of friction only fueling the already raging fires inside the both of you. “Need more, actually…” 

“More?” Each small sporadic moan he heard coming from above was like music to his ears, more and more arousal shooting through his heated body and straight into his cock. He truly couldn't take it much longer, unless he wanted to bust inside his jeans like a loser. “Tell me…Tell me what you need, baby…” 

Of course, your cute, seemingly innocent neighbor would be the type to make you ask for it. Your cheeks stung, especially now that he wouldn’t stop trying to catch your wandering gaze. “Touch me, Yun...”

“Touch you…? Touch you where?” 

Chewing at your bottom lip, you pulled your tiny shorts up by the waistband, your pussy on full display for him.  “Here, please…” 

“Fuckin’ hell…” One of Yunho’s hands left your hips, gingerly pulling said shorts to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. Yunho had dreamt of this moment for ages, and now that he was finally living it, he was absolutely ready to give his all for the angel sitting on his lap. “Jesus Christ...All of you is so pretty...so perfect.” 

“I’m all yours,” you whispered under your breath, running your hands down his warm chest.

Yunho felt his brain short-circuiting in real time. “Fuck, you have no idea how crazy that makes me.” 

The man’s cock pulsed from underneath you, leading you to bite back a moan. “Show me.” 

“Then, sit on my face, angel.” 

Once you were angled above him, Yunho pulled the shorts you soaked up by the inseam, emphasizing the shape of your pussy for his own amusement. He rubbed the pads of his index and middle finger along your clothed lips, knowing he found your clit with his thumb when you let out a sharp gasp. “Right there, hm? Did I find your cute little clit, baby? 

“Uh-huh…” 

He rolled your clit around in slow, teasing circles. “Want me to find your hole next?” Your sheepish, yet eager nods only fueled Yunho’s already raving arousal. 

The unmistakable sound of fabric being ripped was registered by your senses first, before you watched your tiny torn pair of shorts disappear into the depths of the fluffy carpet beside the couch. The cold air that had hit your bare cunt was quickly replaced by your eager neighbor’s warm tongue. “Oh…!” 

Yunho greedily lapped up your arousal into his mouth, mapping out the entirety of your cunt with his lips and tongue, the bottom half of his face already shining with your wetness. The man eventually spread you open with two slender fingers, watching your hole flutter around nothing. “Found it…” He was so overcome with lust, that he sent a wad of spit into your cunt, before plugging you up with his tongue. 

“Yunho, oh my god–” You reached down to hold onto the sides of his head, your fingers curling around his dirty blond locks. 

It was when your hazy eyes met that Yunho began to tongue-fuck you in a vigorous manner, each and every impossibly wet sound your slick cunt made only furthering your neighbor’s desire to make you fall apart. He only ceased his worship to groan, “Fuck, do you get this goddamn wet for everyone?” 

Your thighs were starting to shake. You were close. “Just you, Yunho…” Now that the man was looking back up at you with those big puppy dog eyes, you couldn’t help but tug at his hair. “You look like you wanna say something, baby.” The small, uncharacteristically whiny moan he let out encouraged you to take matters into your own hands, rubbing your cunt along Yunho’s spread-out tongue, your puffy clit routinely bumping into his curved nose. He let out another pretty-sounding moan. It made you smile. “C’mon…use your words…” 

“Cum on my face, please,” he voiced urgently, his lips still pressed to your wet cunt. 

“Fuck, yeah, okay,” you gasped in agreement, only able to grind yourself across Yunho’s tongue a few more times, before he cemented his hands around your waist, forcefully bringing you down onto his mouth. 

Yunho couldn’t make out any of the words coming out of your mouth, too focused on the heavy moans you were letting out in between them. Your clit throbbed against his hot tongue, and once he licked down to your spasming hole, he felt the warm spray of your release hit his tongue. Savoring the taste of you on his swollen lips, he gazed up at you with pride. “That’s my girl.” 

With your legs shaking and your heart pounding, you climbed off of him, watching him sit up and lean back against the couch, his aching cock still trapped inside the confines of his pants. You couldn’t help but lick at your own lips. “Take it out, Yunho…”

Yunho obliged, hastily undoing his leather belt. His sizable cock smacked heavily into his abdomen upon release, leaving a trail of pre-cum behind on his t-shirt. A prominent vein traveled up from the base of his cock to the thick tip where it was an eye-catching shade of pink. It matched the flush on his cheeks and ears. 

Despite being confident about his size, there was a nervous glint in his eyes. “What do you think…?” 

“Pretty…” You were sure you were drooling. 

Chuckling in relief, Yunho patted one of his spread thighs. “Come here, princess. See how pretty it is up close.” 

And you did just that, perching yourself on top of Yunho’s lap like you belonged there. Yunho still couldn’t believe his luck. Not only did he have the privilege of rewatching his favorite movies with his pretty neighbor, but he somehow ended up with you on his cock. He was determined to make it worth your while. “You like being on top, huh?” 

“I just didn’t want to put all the hard work on you,” you pouted, gently running your finger around his tip to collect his arousal, giggling at the way he jolted against your touch. 

“Oh, because I’m like 20 years your senior? Think I can’t handle all this?” he asked under his breath, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass from either side. 

Mewing from his touch, you aloofly licked his pre-cum from your finger, making the man whine in response. “I think you should prove it, Yun,” you whispered near his lips, leaving a chaste kiss against them.  

Yunho’s thick tip entered you first, your cunt slowly stretching open to accommodate his size. “I’ll show you, baby…” Feeling you tense up against him, Yunho made sure he took his time with you, pushing into you inch by inch, diligently studying your face for any sign of discomfort. He did all of this, only for your greedy cunt to swallow up his cock to the hilt. 

You didn’t even know you could feel this full. You were positive he was inside your guts. “Yunho, fuck– it’s so big,” you gasped into his neck. A small puff of air hit the side of your flushed face. 

“You’re just tiny, sweetheart. You can’t help it,” he whispered against your skin, rubbing your lower back in gentle circles. His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “But, you can take it, yeah?” 

You gave him a small nod, but that wasn’t good enough for the man. He pressed his forehead into yours, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “I want to hear you say it, Y/N.” 

When he let out a small breath, you took one in, clutching the sides of his face. “I can take it, Yunho.” 

Yunho began to move before you had the chance to properly ride him, holding your soft hips, using them like handlebars. “Y/N, baby, you’re so tight…” Each thrust he made was purposeful, deep, like he wanted to reach the innermost part of you, and leave his mark there. You were so warm, so hot inside, the man was sure he was going to melt if he continued, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I’m going to make you mine…” 

You choked out a moan, tightening your grip around him. 

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted along your jaw. “That’s what you want?” 

“Please,” you begged Yunho, digging your nails into his back. 

Yunho simply couldn’t hold himself back any longer, not while he had you like putty in his arms, your body limp, completely and utterly at his mercy. “There we go, baby…Don’t worry that pretty head about anything, just focus on this cock.” And he made sure you felt each and every inch of it, figuring he was hitting your cervix from the way you gasped for air like there was none left. 

“Fuck..!” you cried, delirious with pleasure. “I’ll cum, I’m gonna cum, Yunho, please, don’t stop–”

His hips matched the quick, wavered desperation of your voice, pounding himself in and out of your squelching cunt. “Fall apart for me, princess…Let me feel it…” He slipped his free hand between your heated bodies, giving your clit a few vigorous rubs with his calloused thumb. 

You couldn’t speak, simply opening your mouth to let out a soundless moan, your body jolting away from his touch. “That’s it…that’s it, my love, let go,” he sighed against your lips, his thumb still swiping over your sensitive clit, his throbbing length reaching places you never could without his help.

Just as your warmth spilled out of you, Yunho held you still within his firm grasp, his forehead resting against yours. He was almost completely out of breath, a few drops of sweat cascading along his temple. “Inside…?”

You nodded desperately. “Inside, please…” 

Yunho indulged in your mutual desire, pressing his hand down against your tummy to feel the space he took up inside you. He filled you to the brim with his hot white release, so much so that it spilled past your joined bodies and dripped out onto the couch. 

He managed to give you a small sheepish smile when your eyes met. “You’ll really be mine after this, won’t you, kiddo?” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching up to caress his cheek. It was warm to the touch. “Good thing you live right next door.” 

© kitten4sannie, 2025.

[taintedtort]

" VROOM! "

summary. things you do that turn them on pt4

characters. tsukishima, kageyama, tanaka, tendou

warnings. NSFW/SMUT!!! post!timeskip, gn!reader

a/n. @boykissserr requested tsuki, so here’s pt4 lol (if you want me to remove the tag, just lmk!!)

link to pt1 , pt2 , and pt3

☆ — TSUKISHIMA

when you take his glasses off mid make out. sometimes you guys just kiss and it never goes anywhere, but he knows you want more whenever you pull away for a second to slide his glasses off before eagerly swooping back in. he‘ll be grabbing at you after that, not bothering to keep his composure. how could he when you’re just so needy and desperate for him?

"aren’t you sweet?"

☆ — KAGEYAMA

he gets so upset every time he loses a game, and nothing turns him on more than when you suck his dick to take his mind off of it. he‘ll complain a little if you do it in the locker rooms right after the match, but he secretly loves it even more. he might get a little too excited and end up fucking your face, but he‘ll apologize and clean the spit and cum off your face afterwards, don’t worry!

"fuck— baby… so good, just a little more."

☆ — TANAKA

car sex (idk why.. it’s just vibes). lowkey loves the thrill of someone potentially seeing you, but you always complain, so he only does it at night. usually just a little touching and maybe some fingering if you‘re feeling grateful, but once his fingers are inside you, you just can’t help but get all needy. you make him pull over so he can fuck you in the backseat, which he’s beyond glad to do.

"pull over? of course, babe." (looks so happy it’s almost pathetic)

☆ — TENDOU

handcuffs. it is cliche, and it was just meant to be a silly thing, but he actually ends up being obsessed with the way you look. so vulnerable and sexy, trusting him to take you out of the handcuffs when you say the word. he does, of course, but he certainly has his fun with you being restrained. takes the chance to overstimulate you a little, and to fuck you as hard as he wants without your hands pushing at his chest or hips, crying out a "too much!"

"is that too tight? no? mmh… this isn’t as bad as i thought, actually."

[bomberqueen17]

you don't have to be very into birdwatching for this to start happening. you really don't have to have meant to do it, you only have to have exhibited mild curiosity about birds a couple of times for this to possess you and take you over.

i was in the Rosario Islands off Colombia, in the Carribbean, and I'd never been anywhere near there before, I'd never studied what birds they have there, had not considered it in my preparations. I'd spent several days in Cartagena beforehand and there above me as I lay in the pool on my hotel roof I'd recognized the distinctive silhouettes in a kettle of turkey vultures over the city, the same turkey vultures that turn up at my home in spring to fuck on my mom's barn roof, and I was so astonished to recognize them (if you'd asked, I wouldn't have thought I would have known them that well) that I sloshed out of the pool and went and got my phone and looked them up because surely I was imagining it, surely that wasn't the same-- but it is, it's them. They migrate, and some of them go as far as South America during the winter; that kettle could potentially contain the selfsame individuals as the ones that fuck at my mom's house. I had no idea! But I saw them with my own eyes, there they were, and thanks to the magic of the Internet I could look it up, and tell everyone trying to sunbathe by the pool who understood English all about it whether they wanted to know or not. (I didn't realize so many of the tourists did, lol, or I probably wouldn't have said "fuck at my mom's house" quite so much.)

And then we went to the Rosario Islands and it was 3pm and the tide was coming in with a very strong wind (it's the windy season there, they don't have summer and winter like us they have windy/rainy instead, and we went during the windy season), and there were these big birds that looked like a capital M and they were hovering, eerily still-- gliding fast into this strong wind so that they stayed completely motionless relative to the ground, and somehow, some part of my brain reached back 20 years to when I'd read about Stephen Maturin's seafaring naturalist adventures, and I just somehow knew even though I don't remember reading their description or habits, and I gasp-shrieked, "THOSE ARE MAGNIFICENT FRIGATEBIRDS", and my partner was like "what there's no way that's a real thing" and I slogged through the sand and ran to our cabana and got my phone and looked them up and SURE ENOUGH

they were magnificent frigatebirds and they were cool as FUCK

and i have now Seen the Magnificent Frigatebird

and watched one dive and scare a tourist into dropping her cocoloco into the water because they're magnificent frigatebastards too it turns out

It never lets you go and you will never be free but also oh my gosh there is so much more WORLD to observe when you know the names of the things in it!!!!!

(I installed the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Merlin app on my phone and also got to sound ID the great kiskadee and also identify the Maria Mulata of folklore, song, statuary, and also numerous flocks.)

What they don’t tell you about getting into bird watching is that once you get into it, you do not get to decide when you bird watch. You can be on the beach of some distant tropical country with nothing planned except relaxing. But then you see a Common Fluttering Nut Buster and you’re like fuckkkkkkkk holy shit guys the Common Fluttering Nut Buster is not supposed to life this far west holy shitttttttttt

[twelvekittensinatrenchcoat]

tbh i really think that Forcefem Enjoyers™ are sleeping on the potential of magical girl transformations

like it's not that hard to come up with a reason (e.g. saving a loved one, wishing for something madoka-style, a general concern for the greater good, straight-up being coerced into it, etc) for that sad-eyed "cis" "boy" protagonist to become a magical girl. then once (s)he's running around in frills and thigh boots, you've got a whole sea of possibilities

perhaps something goes wrong with the transformation, leaving the magical girl stuck in her transformed state for an extended period. how is this going to affect her life, or her relationships with her friends and family? how will she be able to change back? will she ever be able to change back?

alternatively, the repeated transformations begin slowly feminizing her civilian body. when she discovers this, she decides to quit being a magical girl... but if she's gone, who's going to defend the city and its people? and now there's a monster on the rampage... okay, she'll stop it just this once, alright? but she swears this is the last time, she's definitely quitting for real after this!

or maybe she's just one member of a whole magical girl team, and her teammates have been forcing pressuring encouraging her to stay in her transformed state for longer and longer. but it's all in good fun, right? besides, that dusty old body of hers is so boring. isn't being a magical girl so much better?

of course, there's always the option that being a magical girl is just so... addictive. the power, the public adoration, the cuteness, they're all so intoxicating, and soon enough she's using any possible excuse to change into her magical form. but don't get her wrong - she's just really passionate about protecting the innocent! look, it's not like she actually enjoys prancing around in that tiny skirt, okay? don't be weird about it or anything...

but that's just the tip of the iceberg. let's say one such magical girl is defeated and captured by a beautiful villainess, who decides to corrupt her and turn her to the side of evil... now that's where the real fun starts...

[0bticeo]

air sex with mark. reader has begged him to take her flying before, but bouncing on his dick in the sky is new for him. i feel like at first he would be hesitant, but then would enjoy the thrill of showing off his strength. and maybe he also likes the idea of someone looking up and seeing, as a treat

WHAT'S NEXT, ALIEN SEX?

summary:

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil.

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit.

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

tw: air sex, piv sex, fingering, slightly ooc!mark but it'll make sense in part 3 i prommy, switch!mark, cunnilingus, mark being whipped, fluff, couples fighting together against a common enemy à la will turner/elizabeth swann minus the swords, if u know who the art belongs to pls lmk so i can give credit pls, the author being a vv slow writer and apologising, pls show my bby some love and leave a comment, mwah

part 2 to boyfriend material

having a superhero boyfriend has its perks. 

sure, you may get interrupted mid-date by a world-ending emergency or a bank robbery - because invincible has range like that. sure, cecil stedman has you on watch because anybody that gets close to mark gets the GDA premium treatment of you-could-potentially-be-useful-so-we-keep-a-close-eye-on- you-in-case-something-happens. and sure, nolan grayson's ice cold gaze - assessing, cutting, predatory - sets you on edge.

but at the end of the day, you're in love with mark grayson. mark grayson is invincible. so you love invincible. perfect syllogism. however, you could really do without the flaxans invading downtown chicago in the middle of your coffee date. 

“seriously? it’s the third time this month!”

he sends you an apologetic look over his sugary monstrosity of a beverage. something with so much caramel and whipped cream you’re getting vertigo just by looking at the damn thing. viltrumite biology-induced cravings, maybe?

you’re cut in your musings by panicked passer-bys running for their lives.

he takes a sip through his straw, brown eyes darkening, split earth after a thunderstorm. a little pout has his lips curling downwards. you kiss it away, a short, sweet peck that has him smiling against your mouth.

“karma’s a bitch,” you grumble, downing your coffee - black, no sugar because you’re no heathen.

mark lets out a huff of laughter, something awfully soft in his eyes. his fingers lace with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

“c’mon, baby. duty calls.”

duty is a damn bitch is what she is. one flick of your wrist has your civilian outfit - pretty, casual, a nice little sundress that had mark do a double take because you don’t wear these that often - melting away in the shadows, replaced by your trademark coat and catsuit. 

shadow’s back in the game and she’s pissed.

(her boyfriend’s struggling in the men’s room with his invincible suit, because clark kent makes wearing his super suit under his everyday clothes seem easy, but it really isn’t.)

it’s a bloodbath. 

downtown chicago has been turned into a one-sided battlefield, the harsh, viscous green of alien skin burnt into your retina. your jaw ticks. they’re aiming at civilians, laser beams turning innocents into fine, bloody paste.you witness a little girl, no older than five, face half melted in the concrete, whimpering as she takes her last breath. a twenty something college student cradling his abdomen, innards spilling out. christ’s sake, a dog, half eviscerated, crawling towards its dying master, man’s most loyal companion.

you step forward, cracking your knuckles. 

“sorry lads. the earth is closed today.”

the sun is still high above, a witness to dull afternoon hours turned into a horror scene. your shadow spreads and spreads, encompassing the army standing before you. you tilt your head, eyes rolling back behind your domino mask as you call in the darkness. the shadows twist. you raise your hand, pointing at the first few ranks aiming at you, barking in their language. 

further back, near the portal, on what appears to be their equivalent of a tank, their leader, face marred by a long, jagged scar running from his brow to his lips. they twist in a snarl upon glimpsing your silhouette. he raises an arm, finger vengefully pointed at you. ah, so they do recognise you.

looks like somebody didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of your tridagger. pity.

you clench your hand into a fist. it doesn’t deter them, the way the ground shifts under their boots. the slow corruption of the concrete below, as it is rendered one with the dark. your shadow’s stretched out enough to encompass all of them and give them a nice, cosy one way trip to the shadow dimension. its many beasts are hungry for fresh meat. maybe then they’ll stop ruining your dates.

something shifts when the first bullet manages to hit you, the laser burning away both leather and kevlar. blood drips from your shoulder.

“oooh, so you want it close and personal, huh?”

 you grin and throw yourself in the fray, black cloying the edges of your vision.

adrenaline courses through your veins. your shadows move along with you, sliding and shifting, the ground caving in treacherously under the aliens’ feet. concrete splits open. the one on your left shouts, beady eyes wide and panicked, and shoots. bang. dodge, duck, slam your foot at the back of its knee and watch the fucker fall into the abyss. kick up its rifle and shoot. slam it in an alien’s skull before it gets to you.

the scent of charred flesh fills your nostrils. ah. you’ve been hit again. spots dance in front of your vision. you take a hit. another. another - your lips split, grin flashing wide as your hand pierces feeble tactical gear. blood drips on the ground. the alien looks at the gaping hole in its sternum.

(shadows bend to your will, you’ve explained to mark when you first met, on the edge of midnight city where you hail from. your legs were dangling carelessly at the edge of a skyscrape under his watchful gaze. even then, even before the both of you became something too much to be put into words, he wanted you safe.

you’ve demonstrated it for him. harmless things, your fingers molding together, shapes taking form on the wall, shadows rippling as they came to life, dripping down like ink as small rabbits hopped out of the dark and around mark’s legs. 

you’ve shown the lethality of it. 

your gloved hands shifted, middle and index fingers pointing towards an approaching thug, other hand cradling your curled fingers.

bang.)

you’re laughing, cradling the poor thing’s heart, darkness like ink coating your fingers like a glove. you  make it sharper, deadlier. 

a shift behind you. the burning energy of a laser bullet aimed your way, straight for the head. too fast for you to dodge. 

a fist closes on it. 

you smile, lazily.

“mm. you’re late, invisible.”

invincible grins, a little sharp, wiping away flaxan blood on his suit, red a stark contrast against the bright yellow of it. lasers ricochet off him, rippling across his broad back as he turns to face you, shielding you with that cocky little grin you love. he rolls his shoulders, barely affected by it. you bite your lip at the sight.

“sorry, shade. you wouldn’t believe the traffic.” 

he moves, liquid smooth, hands on your hips as he shifts you away from an opponent. you use the momentum to head kick the fucker, its jaw giving away with a sickening crack under your soles. a sharp, screeching sound as it crumbles to the ground. you kick up its rifle, leaning on it with a sigh.

a tilt of your fingers and a shield rises before you, lasers sizzling against the surface.

invincible’s lips brush your jaw, gaze lazily surveying the progression of the flaxan troops.

“can i make up for it?” he breathes. “being late?”

even with his goggles hiding his eyes, you feel the weight of his gaze, something that has heat settling low in your core. his grin sharpens at that, nose brushing against the sliver of skin left bare by your suit. his thumbs rub small circles on your hip bones, and you’re intimately aware of how close he is, the firm line of his body pressing against yours, all hard edges, battle-honed. you lean back into him.

“maybe later. y’know, when earth isn’t invaded by murderous aliens.”

he chuckles, pressing a soft little kiss to your cheek. you gasp when he squeezes your ass. cheeky bastard.

“lemme deal with that.”

and fuck, the way he tears into them and slams their leader into the nearest building, fingers digging in the soft, breakable flesh of its throat, concrete shattering upon impact… you watch, eyes wide behind the lenses of your domino mask, as he crushes its skull between his hands, the bone brittle under his palms.

he turns back to look at you, floating above the battlefield, sun setting low behind his frame, his shadow stretching and stretching. blood drips down his clenched fist. you think of the deadly edge of a sword, perfectly poised, teetering on the edge of carnage. 

the flaxans look up, panicked, and aim at him. 

“sorry guys.” he cracks his knuckles, his grin sharp. “can’t keep my girl waiting.”

and fucking hell, you think as you leap towards the now empty tank, taking advantage of them being distracted. you should be focused on smashing the device creating their portals. it’d be easy enough, to use the shadows as an exoskeleton to enhance your strength. 

it would be, if mark wasn’t so bloody gorgeous while smashing his enemies to pieces. you think you hear him laugh as he does, something almost boyish. sunlight hits him, all goldens and reds - so much red, dripping down his chin, staining his goggles. you watch the lean muscles ripple under his suit, the way his fingers flex as he curls them into fists, the way his shoulders tense. the way he toys with them, faster than they can perceive, dodging their shots at the very last second. he’s making them harm their own kin.

snap out of it.

you smash your rifle against the complex machinery beeping before you. utterly unrefined, but you’re not exactly well-versed in alien mechanics, so it’ll have to do. the green light of the portal fizzles out. it’s closed.

mark flies above, lazily cracking his wrist.

a low, mournful cry rises from the troops.

//

you’re standing in a secluded alleyway, having bravely fled from the crowd of journalists creeping closer to the scene of carnage. 

“wasn’t that meg?” you muse, taking off your domino mask with a relieved sigh.

mark’s thumbs find the underside of your eyes, gently massaging the skin where your mask has been pressing.

“oh, her?” 

he pouts. you giggle at that, leaning into his touch. gently, you pry off his mask, revealing what has to be humanity’s most devastating puppy eyes.

“what? she’s pretty.” a conspiratorial smirk. “i need to know where she bought that skirt.”

his hands drop from your face, lightly resting on your waist in a way that makes something primal in you purr. he’s soft with you, mindful of the cuts on your shoulder, on your forearm. from this close, you can smell him, sharp ozone, and something distinctly mark that has you almost nuzzling him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. 

“actually that’s not a bad idea.” he grins. “it would look good on my bedroom floor.”

“mark, you little-”

“what? would you prefer your bedroom floor?”

you slap his chest.

he cackles at that, looking down at you like you’re something precious.

you inch closer, hands pressed up against his chest. you watch as his pupils dilate, a never-ending void consuming the soft brown of his eyes. his gaze darts down to your lips and he frowns. his thumb brushes away a small drop of blood oozing from the thin line where your lower lip has been split.

his thumb meets the tender skin of your mouth and you press a soft kiss to the tip of it. 

mark finds his heart stuttering in his chest. you’d think he’d be used to have you by now. three months in, tangled up in each other in both hero work and school work and yet there he is, back pressed up against the washed up wall of a dingy alleyway come dusk, flushing under your adoring gaze. 

you’re devouring him, hunger practically oozing off of you as you take him in, all firm lines and soft gazes. god, you think michelangelo might weep in despair for having died in an era without him to immortalize. his hand clenches, long, slender fingers left bare by his suit flexing smoothly in a motion that has you pressing your thighs together with a soft sigh. 

dusk settles over chicago, golden sunbeams brushing the sharp edge of his jaw and you raise your hand to trace it, absently. a smile curls up your lips when he leans into your touch, as your gloved fingers brush past his jaw to go up, up, up, carding through the soft mess of his hair. blood and viscera got stuck in it. he does get violent when he fights, you muse, absently.

there’s still blood splattered on his suit.

maybe you love him a little too much. maybe you should be worried your boyfriend once tore out one of the mauler twins’ head for having made fun of your hair, laying it before your feet like an offering. doesn’t matter when you feel him against you, hard and wanting. doesn’t matter when he’s burying his face in your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin, marking you. 

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil. 

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit. 

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

he freezes, parting from you. you nearly whine at the loss.

“wha- baby are you…?”

a soft flush blooms on his cheek and you coo, peppering soft kisses to his sweet face.

“c’mon… it’d be fun…”

you send him that look. the look that had him reeling at teen team’s base after a group mission. the look that had him fucking you in their showers, one hand firmly clasped on your mouth to muffle your moans as you heard rex and eve arguing outside. the look that had him fighting for his life under cecil’s no-nonsense gaze during briefings. the look that kept him company during his two months trip to space, palming himself through his suit to the thought of you.

fuck martians and their unchecked sequids invasion, he wanted you by his side. 

he has you now, so he puts his mask back on and pulls you close, breathing you in. coffee. that one vanilla and caramel perfume you love. blood. his thumb grazes the cut on your shoulder. you squirm in his grip.

“let’s get you home, mm? i’ll patch you up there.”

he scoops you up in his arms, fingers digging in the fat of your thighs as your legs wrap around his - sinfully small - waist. you’re in the air before you know it, arms wound tight around his neck, gloved fingers playing with what little baby hair is left uncovered by his mask. he shudders at the contact, a small whimper leaving his lips, barely audible with the roaring of the wind whipping past you.

you glance down. chicago stretches out, glimmering gold. at the edge of the horizon, you watch the sun set, all-consuming gold bleeding into creeping night blue. mark keeps flying you higher, careful not to go too high, where the air would be too rare for you to breathe.

your fingers dig in his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. he wouldn’t let you fall, you know.

(you’re in his bed, still panting, flushed and full in a way you’ve never felt before. mark has gathered you in his arms, and you’re curled up against him, head on his chest as he strokes your hair. he hasn’t been this relaxed in a long time, and you’re putty in his hands. 

you inch closer, fingers lacing with his, lips pressed to his knuckles. the bruises from his last fight are fading.

“mark?”

“yeah?”

“i meant it, y’know. i’m falling for you.”

he stills, a split-second of terrifying second-guessing. too much? too soon? you open your mouth, mortification creeping in. you close it when you meet his eyes, impossibly fond, the softest you’ve seen them yet.

“don’t worry. i’ll catch you. always. can’t have my baby falling.”

you boop his nose.

“sap.”

there’s a wide grin on your face. your heart feels light.)

his grip on you tightens. his lips brush against your ear, his voice low.

“i need you, baby.”

you feel his breath, harsh and heavy on your nape, the way his shoulders tense, adrenaline still coursing through him. your fingers palm his bulge, and you grin against his collarbone when you find him hard and wanting. you can feel the outline of his cock, even through the damn kevlar. you think you might feel the way he’s leaking through his boxers, too, tip flushed the same pretty shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. palm pressing in, grinding against the kevlar of his suit, you look up at him.

his breath catches. his hips stutter, his flight grows haphazard. his lips part in a soft, ragged little exhale of your name. you don’t think you’ve seen him this needy, with the way he presses you close - not just for safety - his hands somehow managing to knead your breasts, your ass, your thighs. 

it has you clenching your thighs, desperate for any kind of friction.

you lean closer, a soft whisper in his ear, lost to the icy wind nipping at your cheeks.

“is it the suit that turns you on?”

“it’s just…” he lets out something suspiciously close to a whimper. frustrated. needy. “i’m not sure how we should do this, y’know? logistically, i mean. i won’t let you fall, you know that, but what if-”

you press your lips to his, sweetly, softly. he melts against you. it feels like the roaring of the world has finally stopped, his mind a delicious, blissful blank. he’s stopped flying, he realises absently, pulling you close to him by the waist. you shiver, nestling against him, eager for warmth - viltrumites run hot. a side effect of having to fly in cosmic depths. 

he shudders deliciously when your nose brushes the sharp edge of his jaw, your mouth hot against his pulse, rabbit-fast under your ministrations. 

“baby…”

“you think too much,” you breathe.

he lets out something like a strangled gasp when you bring your hips closer to his, thigh brushing his aching cock. you stroke his cheek over his mask and he’s burning, inches away from ripping his suit off and fucking you senseless. 

he leans into your touch with a sigh, nuzzling your palm. 

“hey.” you give him a tiny eskimo kiss. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“no, i want to.” 

his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in the fat of them hard enough to leave bruises. he wonders how long it will take him to lose control, with the way you look at him like that, flushed and needy, practically gasping for air, like you can only breathe when his mouth is on yours. 

still he hesitates, because there’s something about the way you press yourself against him, catsuit drenched in blood, about the soft ripples of darkness fluttering along the edges of your coat, about how fucking out of it he makes you -

he couldn’t stay away from you if he tried, even if he should, for your sake.

he all but pins you against him, relishing in the feeling of your smaller frame pressed tight against the broad expanse of him, his hand finding its way to your chest, to that small, tantalising zipper between your collarbones. his thumb brushes the sliver of skin you’ve left exposed. for comfort, you said. 

he flashes you a grin, thumb soft on your pulse. persistent. deadly.

“comfortable?”

you splutter.

“mark!”

“that’s invincible to you, shadow.”

your jaw snaps shut. you swallow. right. no names while wearing the suit, but fuck. it’s getting hard to breathe, and the lack of oxygen isn’t at fault. mar- invincible cups your chest, hand gently squeezing the soft mound under your suit. you feel your heart hammer violently under his touch and know he feels it too. he hums, finger circling your nipple, the kevlar brittle under his touch. the motion, the rush of air as he slowly makes his way through the skies, the only thing stopping you from plummeting to your death being him-

it has you wet beyond reason.

“invincible,” you whine, desperate. 

it gets to him, the way your voice softens, the way your hips grind against his thigh mindlessly. he can’t see your face, with the way you’ve been trying to bury it in his chest, with a flustered noise.

fuck, you’re cute.

he pins you to him, your back to his chest, one strong arm locking you in place, a vice grip around your middle. you bite back a soft cry, his erection firmly pressed against your ass. his mouth presses against your neck, a hint of teeth against your carotid that has you gasping his name.

his fingers grasp the zipper, the motion a delicate little thing. cold air hits your skin and you whimper softly, invincible’s cheek nuzzling yours as he pulls it down, down, down, until your breasts spill out of your suit, nipples pebbled and aching, until his fingers reach your cunt.

“shit…” 

you see him bite his lip from the corner of your eye. his fingers dip between your lips, teasingly, barely brushing against your clit, enough for him to find you soaked and eager.

“all for me?”

you smile at his eagerness, at the (almost) innocent surprise in his voice. 

“you see anyone else here?”

he nips your earlobe, grinning wide against your ear.

“cheeky.”

you and invincible- fuck it, you and mark had sex before. hell, you lost your virginity to him in what has to be one of the most intimate moments in your life. but this? this is close second. this, you and mark, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, head in the clouds, watching as the sun sets. mark’s lips slot against yours, your head tilting back to meet him halfway, his fingers curling in you in a way that has you seeing stars.

he sweeps your coat away with a soft growl.

“careful! it’s a gift!”

“yeah, a very inconvenient one.”

“you gifted it to me you- ah!”

somewhere along the way, he managed to free his cock, the bite of the cold air harsh against his leaking tip. you let out a soft whine of protest when he drags it along your folds, robbed of the sinful vision of his leaking tip. 

“m’gonna put it in, okay?” he babbles against your ear, hips grinding against your ass. “oh, baby-”

he lets out a low, soothing sound, nuzzling your neck as he drives himself deeper in you, until you’re clawing at his bicep with a keen.

“m-mark-”

it’s one thing to have him take you from behind, his hand warm and steady on your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him. it’s another to do it in the air, where you have little to no leverage to make him feel good, too. 

“fuck- do you like it?” he rasps, hips snapping forward.

“mm-”

you’re caught in the in-between, the cold air nipping at your skin, mark hot and heavy behind you, fucking up into you like he’d die if he didn’t. your vision blurs at the edges. it’s too much, the delicious drag of his fingers as he teases your clit, the way his cock fills you to the brim. so fucking warm you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of heat. 

looking down would mean a casual reminder of your situation, hundreds of feet above ground, but you do. the sight has you moaning, wanton and debauched, with the way mark’s cock has your lower abdomen bulging out ever so slightly with each thrusts. 

you don’t even realise he’s leaning back until you’re faced with a flurry of emerging stars, watching you from lightyears away. he’s practically lying down in the clouds, the humidity of it raising goosebumps on your heated skin, like he’s baring you to the world.

slowly, he pulls out and has you straddle him, facing him.

he grins up at you, hands resting on your hips, thumbs drawing soothing circles on your hips as you sink down on him with a soft little moan of his name.

“talk about being on cloud nine.”

you snort.

“and i’m the cheeky one?”

“absolutely. my cheeky, adorably fucked-out girlfriend.”

you open your mouth to bite back when his cock hits that sweet, sweet little spot inside of you and your words die in a low, needy little moan. he’s taken off his mask, you realise, absently, discarding it god knows where. he’s taken off his mask, and he’s looking up at you like you’re his sun.

and you’re beautiful, he thinks, running his hand along the slope of your neck, relishing in the contact, in the way you melt against him. absolutely breathtaking, the setting sun cradling you in gold until, shadows framing the dips and planes of you as you ride him until you come apart. he groans, watching your slick coat the base of his shaft, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth until he’s bursting at the seams, your name the only constant on his lips as his hips buck up into you. 

“mmm fuck- i wanna try something-”

“mmn?”

he grins, something a little sweet, a little sharp. there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s up to no good.

“sit on my face.”

“you- mark!”

“what? i won’t let you fall. besides… i did say i’d eat you out, didn’t i?”

you’re trembling, when he slides out of you and pulls you to him, eager, arms wrapped around your parted thighs as he settles you over his mouth. you keen at the first contact of his tongue against your cunt, hips bucking up instinctively. he groans against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. 

“taste so good, baby…”

he’s looking straight at you, feeling his cock harden as you grind yourself on his face, the lapels of your coat spread out on his abdomen like he’s about to spread you out, thumbs parting your nether lips to sink deeper in you, to taste you better. 

next thing you know, he’s sinking his fingers in you and sucking at your clit, the sharp press of his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves a shock to your system. you fist his hair and feel him tense beneath you, his eyes hooded as they take you in.

“mark- mark i can’t-”

he presses a soft kiss to your clit. sweet. reverent. you don’t know if you find it cute or unfairly hot, not with the way you’re dizzy with him, begging for something, anything. something in you builds, coils low in your underbelly and snaps, leaving mark’s lips drenched and his eyes rolling back in his sockets with a strangled moan. you make out more than you feel his hips stuttering, coming to a stop as he cums.

there’s a ringing in your head. nagging. persistent. it won’t go away, no matter how badly you want to shake it off. the world is narrowed down to you, mark, and the way his tongue gently lap at your oversensitive cunt, cleaning you up with tiny kitten licks that have your heart hammering in your chest.

then, slowly, he peels back from you, his face ruined by your slick. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he pulls back, a teasing little bite, and zip up your suit.

“can’t have you catching a cold on me, can i?”

the sun sets. mark grayson tucks you in his arms and flies you to midnight city as you doze off, his heartbeat strong and steady against your ear. he looks at you, all pressed up against his chest, head leaning against his shoulder, and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

when he gets to your home - a small little flat tucked away in sixth avenue, midnight city, seventh floor, third window to the left - he lays you down on the couch and fetches the med kit. you curl up into yourself, half-asleep, reaching for the soft blanket draped on the armrest. a little meow interrupts you, nero looking up at you blearily. you scratch him behind his ears and watch at your cat falls back asleep on the blanket, his little paws curling. 

mark takes in the sight of you, sleepily petting your grumpy furball of a cat, the two of you curled up on the couch, and feels something tug at his heart. affection. boundless love, the kind that would raze cities and bring civilisations to ashes if needed be. he settles next to you, med kit on the coffee table, helping you shrug off your coat and catsuit.

“it’s not too deep.”

his hand brushes your shoulder, relishing the contact with your soft skin. you hum, drowsy, exhaustion catching up with you.

he patches you up, quietly, pulling you close once he’s done. he breathes you in, burying himself in your hair, taking in your flat. a little messy, books everywhere, little plants soaking up sunlight because you like your tomatoes and basil fresh. your cat, snoring lightly on the armrest. you, breathing slowing down, curling up against him with a soft little: “thanks.”

he leans back on the couch, pulling you closer, and thinks, stroking your hair.

he’s been deep in the abysses of earth and felt the tides struggle against him, trying to push back. he’s been close to its core, and felt gravity weigh him down, a feeble attempt at bringing him to his knees. he’s been in space. he’s seen supernovas burn before his eyes, stood before a black hole and watched the event horizon as it tried to pull him into its orbit, a gaping, hungry maw.

but, at the end of the day, it’s you he orbits around, the earth to your sun. 

taking the liberty to tag the the amazing ppl that left comments on my mark os: @gaiasmight @vinnyvamppp @odessa-is-my-queen @shadylilac @linkwho1 @tokoyamisstuff @sp4ceboo

[lyricaschmyrica]

I genuinely have a lot of feelings about this and i dont know if i love or hate it 😭😭

I love “mature” parodies of kids shows cuz they r always funny and show the realities of whatever situation the characters are in. But this one? Its just mature to be mature 😭😭 literally if powerpuff girls was written by vivziepop. Most of the ppg parodies i have seen r mostly joke stuff but they were actually well written and done the right way if that makes any sense

It doesnt show the realities of being child superheros, it doesnt even have any of the actual villains, and it is so clear they only aged up the powerpuff girls just to be weird about them, so they could put them in these “mature” situations

However, i do like the idea of a black and non-gender abiding Buttercup. Black and trans umbrella Buttercup has always spoken to me. I like the idea of them potentially making a “mistake” like killing someone and being ostracized. And i would be lying if i said some of the mature themes didnt make me laugh, some parts were written well.

I just feel like it could have been so much better if they didnt change almost every aspect of the show and just made it mature just to fuck around 😭😭 i didnt see any monsters, only one evil robot, and the only actual characters from the show were professor and the powerpuff girls. And the mature themes r mostly adult jokes, alcohol, bimbo bubbles, and maybe a little death. Thats it. It has so much potential but they js shit it out into a dog bowl

Idk this was just a little rant basically im saying its good but its also bad

The trailer for the CW's cancelled "mature" reboot of the Powerpuff Girl was leaked. Warner Bros is trying their hardest to erase this from all corners of the internet.

Watch it before it's too late

@thealmightyemprex @ariel-seagull-wings @the-blue-fairie @mask131 @princesssarisa @tamisdava2

[failbettergames]

Fallen London Player Survey Results 2024/25

We put out a player survey in December that was taken by just under 8,700 of you.

To the half a dozen people who suggested that we open a communications channel via onlyfans, may god bless and save you. Our apologies to the individual who asked that we ‘do less;’ unfortunately we are bound only ever to do More, and Worse. One person asked for more ways to not be an awful person, but sadly we’ve spent fifteen years writing Awful Person Simulator and we’d find it hard to stop now.

The word 'love' was used in the responses 16,687 times. An order of magnitude more than all of the expletives combined! So we must at least in part be on the right track.

We hope you found it valuable to take part. We’ve already picked off some of the notes we received, where these were tiny things that took moments to fix. As to the rest, here’s a non-comprehensive breakdown of what we heard and what we’re planning to do with it.

There are two main things we want to look at in the coming six months or so:

Recaps and Journal Changes

The overwhelmingly thickest thread of feedback was about remembering what you’re doing in the game when you come back to it. This came from a breadth of players: from people returning after a break of years, to people coming back a few days or weeks after an intensive play period only to wonder why they were collecting so many Counterfeit Heads of John the Baptist.

We’ll be working on improvements to help you return to the flow of gameplay without difficulty after a period away. This will probably include (but not be limited to) more recaps in serial stories, and a rework of the Journal. (We undertake that it will not mess with your existing Journal entries. That would be madness.)

This is our first priority from the survey feedback; thank you very much if you gave details about your experience.

Click-finger Saviour

Chief among the reports from the most committed players is that there are places in the game where their clicking fingers particularly suffer. We can appreciate this, given the depths and lengths that the game has grown to! We have a few things in mind to offer respite, among them being: a version of the Perhaps Not button at the top of the page as well as at the bottom, some streamlining of content, and additional outfit slots, which will reduce some of the click burden of outfit switching.

From today, there will be a maximum of four additional outfit slots available in total: one more unlocked during game progression, one more for Exceptional Friends, and two more for Enhanced Exceptional Friends. This is an increase from 13 to 17 potential slots.

All that and more

Looking further ahead, we also have our thinking caps on regarding:

Additional cameos!

Making Lodgings prettier

A review of Port Carnelian

A way to make a sample Exceptional Story available to non-subscribers, so you can get a better idea of what to expect from one

A persistent place to find news and patch notes within the site

New, different social features

A way to be married to the zee, aka non-romantic spousal options

Finally, some feedback questioned whether we have been using generative AI in our games: we don’t. We wrote an AI transparency statement to make this clear; it’s at the bottom of the credits page for your reference.

Thank you again for completing the survey, if you were able to. We may well do another one. It was lovely to read what you think, especially those of you who aren’t commonly found in our community spaces. Until next time!

[painted-bees]

Raf mastered the art of catnapping when he was a kid because it wasn't often that he'd be allowed to sleep for as long as he needed to at night. Mom would often be awake with him as early as 5am and bedtime was usually between 10pm-12am. Mom figured that if she wasn't tired, it probably wasn't that bad for Raf, either. More hours in a day meant more time to practice music and to rehearse answers to questions and conversations he'd potentially be met with during their various social events. The internet didn't exist back then...maybe she just didn't know that kids and teens require...so much more sleep.

Raf never complained [complaining never helped, and often made things worse for him]. To compensate, he just learned how to take advantage of quiet moments and steal quick winks of sleep when the opportunity arose...but never deep slumbers. If someone so much as breathed his name, he needed to be alert and on his feet again. So his naps were always very light.

At night, he was never a good sleeper, no matter how tired he may have been. It was hard to turn his brain off from processing the days events and nitpicking himself over the interactions and such that he could have done better...trying to decipher what a worrisome expression or glance might have meant, trying to recall details he might not have noticed that would come back to haunt him the next morning. A few hours of sleep, and he'd have to wake up and do it all again.

He got even less sleep in Juilliard, pulling countless all nighters with the help of amphetamines to get him through his recitals and course work. Mom wasn't there to push him anymore, but her criticisms and expectations persisted in his head--in his own voice.

And for several years after Juilliard, Raf's disordered sleep patterns persisted. He couldn't get a reasonable night's sleep without chemical assistance, and he still maintained his habit of opportunistic, light napping when an opportunity presented itself.

In fact, Raf's sleep habits didn't start to improve until Margie [and later, Tess] began crowding his bed at night. Maybe Raf is just a flock animal and requires the presence of other peacefully resting flock members to reassure him that he can sleep soundly and safely. So long as there is a Tess or Margie snug in his arms, he'll get a good night's sleep.

[bright-hope-spot-19]

It's true that most heterosexual relationships in the show feel shallow, and even when looking at the platonic friendships in the teams, the two male members always seem to get along better with each other, and have a stronger friendship than with the one girl on their team.

Team 7? Sasuke and Naruto are so centered around each other that Sakura's presence barely matters or computes to them. Fans can claim her bond with Naruto improved all they want. She still barely has a bond with any of these guys. Sasuke doesn't even stand her.

Ino-Shika-Cho. From here, the female members aren't as disrespected and ignored by their male peers as Sakura is, but the two boys still have a better friendship. Shikamaru and Chouji definitely do. Very early on during Shikamaru's mysoginist phase, he also could barely stand Ino cause he saw all women as insufferable. In Shippuden, his mysoginy definitely decreased to a point where it wasn't part of him anymore, and he started getting along with Ino, but still, we can't deny his friendship with Chouji is way stronger. Shika and Chouji have a childhood backstory together bout how they met as kids that completely excludes the Yamanaka heiress.

Team 8. With them, it's harder to tell, cause they have very little screentime in general. I'd even dare say they're the Konoha team from Naruto's gen with the least screentime. Kiba and Shino definitely and undeniably care about Hinata. I also don't wanna deny the fact that she cares about them, too. It's just that her character is so centered around Naruto that her care for her teammates barely shows. I also think Kiba and Shino have more appearances together in filler episodes without Hinata that further strengthen a potential bond between them. At least, that's what it feels like cause Hinata doesn't give away nearly as much as she receives.

Team Gai. Another one where luckily the girl of the group isn't treated badly, looked down upon, or ignored by her teammates. In fact, I feel like both Lee and Neji respect her a lot. It's just that her bond with the two guys isn't as expanded or added on upon. I mean, at the beginning of the series, before Neji and Lee were also completely dropped, they had a rivalry going on between them. I always felt like it was made to be similar to the rivalry between Nart and Sask, you know the stereotypes of the silent, super talented genius with magic eyes and the less talented guy who has to train way harder cause people don't have faith in him. Tenten really doesn't have smth like that with any of them. In fact, it's pretty much confirmed that she's embarrassed of both Lee and Gai, and the one she gets along the most with is Neji. Even then, she doesn't get much friendship with him either. Girl barely even cried when he died. She just lamented that he left her alone cause now she'd have to deal with the other two without him. I've even read once while scrolling through Tumblr that Tenten's character is 44% filler? But I'm not so sure about that number rn.

It's also worth noting after all this that while friendships between guys have some screentime, friendships between girls really don't? Like, we really don't see the girls being friends all together. Sakura's only memorable female friendship is Ino, and even that one started as a toxic rivalry. Hinata doesn't have any memorable female friends outside some filler where she's shown with Sakura. Neither does Tenten. At least in Boruto, the moms are all shown hanging out together sometimes? I just feel like Karui is still excluded from the group. Anyways, it's still smth to think about.

Pd: Oopsss, forgot to add the sand sibs. But do I even have to? We all know that Kankuro saw more development in his bond with Gaara than Temari did. Which is still not much, btw, and Kank is very lucky the Gaara rescue arc gave him a smidgen of development in his brotherly bond with Gaara. It's just that, as I've said once before: Gaara's character is so centered around Naruto that he doesn't show his sibs any affection. Which is worse in their case cause they're legit blood siblings, unlike the other teams who're just acquaintances put on teams. I feel like their case is kinda similar to team Gai? Where the girl isn't disrespected by the two guys, but they still have a tiny friendship between them that excludes her. Especially with Temari marrying and moving to Konoha, it's undeniable Gaara will get along better with Kank since that's the sib who remained by his side.

Also, same as with the other girls, Temari has no notable female friendships outside of the two filler girls from the chunin exams filler arc. The one Fuu, the 7 tails jinchuriki, was introduced in. At least Boruto helped remedy that in some way by making her friends with the other moms, I suppose.

Someone in that poll said not to watch naruto bc it's queerbait and I hate to tell you this but naruto wasn't trying to queerbait you it's actually the number 1 example of "text is so misogynistic it becomes gay"

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 008 (II). the disquiet.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 1.2k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: um... surprise anaxa pov? mini update once again bc i couldnt help myself. hes a loser and i have no self control i fear... welcome home professor and fuck you very much for ruining my LIFE. i hope you guys like it! <3 next update NOT coming soon bc its going to need a LOT OF RESEARCH !! but it will come, hehe. -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

Anaxagoras sits unnaturally still, save for the occasional, minute twitch of his finger against the trackpad. The inbox is open again—has been, for the last thirty-seven minutes. He’s refreshed it thirteen times. Fourteen. He does not look at the time.

The email remains unread.

No reply.

Of course not.

He closes the tab. Opens another. Reopens the inbox. As if that would change the outcome.

He leans back, then forward, spine stiff and aching with tension he refuses to acknowledge. His other hand flexes once against the armrest, fingers curling in tight, rhythmic spasms. He imagines, absurdly, that he can will the message into existence by the precise calibration of his breathing: inhale, two beats, exhale, one. Inhale. Exhale.

Footsteps behind him. Soft. Familiar. The cadence of someone who does not knock.

“I thought you only hovered when you were revising a grant proposal,” says a voice, dry as old paper.

Cerces.

Anaxagoras doesn’t turn. “You’re early.”

She shrugs. He hears it in her voice. “You’re transparent.”

He ignores that. She crosses the office anyway, folds herself into the spare chair without invitation, like she’s amused by how much it bothers him.

“You know,” she says, glancing toward the screen, “for someone who claims to detest inefficiency, you’re wasting an awful lot of neural bandwidth watching that inbox not blink.”

He keeps his tone level. “I’m waiting for a reply.”

“Oh, I gathered.” Her smile is all teeth. “From the little prodigy, yes?”

“Pathetic,” she says lightly. “You’ve hit refresh so many times, the poor thing’s going to short-circuit.”

“I’m expecting–”

Cerces glides in, unimpressed. “You’re brooding. Badly. Honestly, it’s unbecoming. You usually pace.”

Cerces taps her nail idly against the edge of the desk. “Sent them my paper on subjective structure, did you?” She lifts a brow. “Bold.”

“It was relevant.”

“To their project, or to you?” she asks, with mock-innocence. “Can’t tell anymore. You sent out less reading than usual this term. Except to them.”

Anaxagoras does not dignify that with a response.

Cerces hums, leaning back in the chair like a cat preparing to nap on his thesis notes. “No wonder you’ve been unbearable all day,” she muses. He closes the inbox.

Cerces, satisfied, stands. “Just admit it’s getting to you.”

“It isn’t.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely getting to you.” She adjusts her coat. “You know what I think? I think you’ve finally found a student who doesn’t need your approval to be brilliant, and it’s making you—” she lifts a hand, gesturing vaguely at his expression—“like this.”

She’s halfway to the door when she adds, lightly: “It’d be romantic, if it weren’t so predictable.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Anaxagoras stares at the inbox again.

Then he clicks refresh.

Just once more.

Anaxagoras locked the door behind him with a muted click, the old brass deadbolt sliding home with a satisfying weight. He stood there for a moment, coat still draped over one arm, his keys resting loosely in his hand.

The apartment was dim, lit only by the soft, residual glow filtering in from the streetlights outside. Dromas stirred from her place on the windowsill, her feline silhouette stretching languidly, but didn’t bother to cross the room to greet him. She knew his rhythms too well to expect anything different tonight.

He exhaled, low and measured, setting his folio and coat onto the small entry table. His movements were deliberate—almost mechanical. He loosened his cuffs, folded them back neatly, crossed the room to the kitchen only to stop halfway there, hands half-lifted in the faint, aborted gesture of making tea he didn’t really want.

Instead, he turned, leaning back against the counter’s edge, arms crossing over his chest as he stared into the middle distance.

It should have been a straightforward afternoon.

He had predicted the conversation. He had anticipated the questions—sharp, incisive, urgent in a way most students couldn’t muster even on their best days. He had even foreseen the almost inevitable moment when he would have to reveal that he had submitted the symposium application on your behalf weeks ago.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the look you gave him.

Not gratitude—that would have been easier to dismiss. Gratitude was impersonal, clean, academic. He could have tucked it neatly away with every other minor debt and favor exchanged in the endless currency of university life.

No—what unsettled him was that you had looked at him as if you understood. The warmth of it, the raw, unguarded recognition—it lodged under his ribs like a splinter.

Anaxagoras dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture more frustrated than he would have allowed anyone to see.

It wasn’t improper.

It wasn’t wrong.

You were brilliant—deserving. Your mind had already begun to unfurl in ways that few others' ever could. It would have been criminal not to give you the chance to sit in that room with Cerces and the others, to sharpen yourself against the brightest, most dangerous minds the field had ever produced.

And yet—

He pushed off the counter sharply, crossing the room to the bookshelf by the window. His fingers skimmed across the worn spines without truly reading any of the titles.

And yet there was an edge to it he could not name—a precarious, almost gravitational pull that had nothing to do with academics.

He had always prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize. To categorize attachments neatly away from the crisp structures of logic and methodology he demanded of his work.

But when you had stood across from him this afternoon, tablet still glowing faintly in your hands, passion and ambition thrumming just beneath the surface of your carefully controlled demeanor—

He had wanted.

Not just to teach.

Not just to challenge.

He wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t hold back. If you let that mind—the one so few even recognized as extraordinary—unfurl without apology or restraint.

To watch you unmask the depths of yourself, raw and unfiltered, free from the weight of expectation. He longed to see you, not as the student you so often hid behind, but as the person you were when you let go of the barriers you had so carefully constructed. He wasn’t just waiting to be impressed—he wanted to be seen by you, to be part of that unfolding, as if by witnessing it, he could catch a glimpse of something he had only dared to touch in the quiet spaces of his own soul.

He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

Cowardice isn’t always irrational.

Cerces' words. He understood them now, in a way he hadn’t when she first said them years ago, with that half-smile and a glint in her eye that hinted at the ruins she was quietly accepting.

If he was careful, this would pass. The symposium would come and go. You would find larger horizons to chase. That was the plan. That was the only rational outcome.

Dromas jumped down from the sill, padding over to rub herself against his leg. He bent down, absently running a hand along her back. She purred once, low and approving.

"You," he said softly, as if the cat could understand the accusation laced into the word, "have far fewer complications."

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @fellow-anime-weeb927 @beateater @bothsacredanddust @acrylicxu @average-scara-fan @pinkytoxichearts @amorismujica @luciliae @paleocarcharias @chuuya-san @https-seishu @feliju @duckydee-0 @dei-lilxc @eliawis @strawb3rri-bliss @khoiyyu @somatchajade @tremendoustragedybard @serena6728 @ameili @aominehaven @skeele @thelightofmylife @casualgalaxystrawberry @sigma-s-wife @nvlusdei @sc4r4luv

(send an ask or comment to be added!)

[mullermilkshake]

Even praise hurts

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

The association dinner goes mostly the way Jinwoo expects, yet he suspects that something darker is at play.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Mentions of unprotected sex/public sex/gore and violence/murder/drowning, mentions of babies/pregnancy, dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts, mild treats, alcohol, drinking

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

“What took you guys so long?” Baek leant on the bar with a whiskey swirling in his hand.

Jinwoo thought it best to say nothing. If he had it his way, he’d tell the whole restaurant and bar exactly where he was and how deep, just for his own entertainment. Though he doubted you would have appreciated it.

“Traffic.” You said casually, your hand still in Jinwoo’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hm,” He did not sound convinced. “Sounds about right. There’s always jackasses on the road. Glad you’re here, we’re all sitting in the back room waiting for you.”

Jinwoo fought hard to hold in his smugness, keeping everyone waiting whilst his load was dribbling from your thighs was potentially one of his top five moments in his life so far. He led the way behind Hunter Baek right through to the back room where the others were talking and smiling, Jong-in noticed you immediately and smiled, putting Jinwoo's back up immediately.

So irritating. 

“You’re here,” he grinned with his glass. “We almost thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Lots of traffic.” An adorable laugh left your lips. “Lots and lots of traffic.”

When you grinned back, Jinwoo watched Jong-in closely. Were those kind eyes, or ‘fuck me’ eyes he was giving you? Yeah, they were definitely ‘fuck me’ eyes. Just what the hell was that?

“It’s good that you’re finally here Hunter Sung, we were beginning to worry.” The Chairman did not address Jinwoo directly, rather he was looking at your hand entwined with his, a knowing stare that flitted every so often.

“We apologise, Chairman. It wasn’t our intention to arrive late.”

Jinwoo took his glances as a contest, doing the exact same towards him and Jin-chul, an all knowing glance for the conversation preciously, noting how he was studying you and Jinwoo just as closely.

The Chairman grinned and allowed you and Jinwoo to sit. “It’s quite alright, now we can make a toast to the happy couple.”

Happy couple… that’s rich coming from a man that gave them no choice.  

Hunter Lim sat next to Jin-chul, totally impassive. His arms folded the way they were signalled that he wasn’t entirely present, not until he took notice of Jinwoo. “Hey, glad you two finally made it, Yoonho’s been boring the hell out of me with random crap.”

“Were you waiting long?” Jinwoo asked with caution, according to his calculations, you and he were only late by ten minutes.

“Eh, we all decided to meet a little earlier, you didn’t get the message? So its more like forty minutes, no one could reach either of you.”

Oh shit. Well, in this case, you and Jinwoo would have arrived late regardless if he’d fucked you in his car or not, somehow it didn’t make the situation as dire as it could have been.

“Oh,” Jinwoo pulled out his phone and pretended to check through it like it actually mattered. “No, I didn’t get anything sent to me.”

Lim dismissed it and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’ll see Yoonho get drunk this time, that can be entertaining.”

“Right… uh, where’s Hunter Ma?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s off somewhere. He couldn’t wait much longer for you so I think he went to get a light bite. He’ll be back shortly… but I guess we can get to celebrating the happy couple as happy as they can be, being forced into this like they have.”

Out of the two, Jinwoo had faith that you and he would be happy, but he saw right through the facade that Jong-in and Hae-in put up, and it fascinated him. So much so that he let one of his shadows go and attach itself to Jong-in. Just out of curiosity behind closed doors.

Jinwoo pulled out your seat for you and only then did you let go of his hand, he waited until you were seated properly. He watched the interactions between them as a toast was announced, you said something to Hae-in but his concentration picked up on the little things.

Despite popular belief, You and Hae-in rarely spoke the last two months, and even before then, it seemed to be more of a show for the public eye rather than a genuine friendship. The act of survival when one’s life is threatened to change often brings people together, and Jinwoo saw that it was that case with you and Hae-in.

She wasn’t entirely invested, it was obvious by the extra few inches distance her chair sat from jong-in, never touching hands, always at her side unless picking up her glass of water. Jong-in was more invested in you than the mother of his child, barely making eye contact with her or exchanging more than a word or two.

Trouble in paradise. And the chairman thinks it’s appropriate to berate us, instead?  

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh,” Lim snorted. “There you are, big guy. Thought you got lost too.”

Ma chuckled and flopped down in the seat next to Baek with a satisfied grin and a fleck of sauce on his cheek. He noticed you and Jinwoo and waved. “Hey you two, thought you were never gettin’ here!”

Before anyone could address that elephant in the room further, the Chairman stood up to command the room with his scotch glass. “Let’s toast to the first step in the reclaiming of our country's security and the future of the Hunter’s association… To Hunter Choi and Hunter Cha!”

Everyone toasted, raising their glasses whilst the Chairman ordered food and ordered everything to fill out the table. The mood seemed fruitful, enthusiastic, despite the ominous response to it two months ago. Even you seemed more on board with it now, chatting more and smiling a little warmer than previous weeks.

The others might not have seen it, not even you, yet Jinwoo could think of nothing else. Chairman Go and Jin-chul’s watchful eyes on everything across the table. Watching closely, Jinwoo found that as the night progressed, Jong-in and Hae-in became touchy.

A hand brush every so often, a little whisper in her ear with a smile sweeter than treacle to rot the entire table’s teeth for endless cavities. Though when those moments vanished, Jong-in was clinging on to you, with the hope of what, exactly? That he’d eventually come clean to how in love he was with you, or try to convince you that he was a better person despite having a child with another woman?

Just the thought made Jinwoo brood, grit his teeth through the boring dinner during parts he wasn’t listening just to think of ways he’d kill the man in a fit of fuelled jealousy that Jong-in even had the gall to talk to you with such familiarity-

“Jinwoo.” 

He blinked, looking down at you with softer eyes. “Hm?”

You leant closer and whispered. “You’re spacing out… are you feeling okay?” 

God… Those eyes staring up at him so innocently when Jinwoo knew you weren’t the innocent persona you allowed the public to perceive you as. If only publix sex was legal, and he definitely would have had you over the dinner table and no one could have stopped him. That would have set Jong-in straight.

“Y-yeah… I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

You seemed to buy it. “Okay… we’ll leave soon?” 

“Sounds good.”

The Chairman cleared his throat and addressed Jinwoo properly for the first time with full eye contact. “So, Hunter Sung, when will you greet the association with the good news?”

This went against Jin-chul’s advice on keeping the night about the Hae-in's pregnancy. It was a direct threat too. Every hunter alive treated the Chairman with the respect and decency someone of his position and temperament dictated, but Jinwoo saw straight through it like glass.

By this threat, Jinwoo suspected that the Chairman had another agenda.

Why is he so hellbent on getting results this eagerly?

He glanced up at the system's quest screen, still unchanged. It wouldn’t give him an unobtainable quest so pregnancy was still possible, but with the Chairman’s urgency, something told his gut to shut it down immediately.

At the end of the day, whenever you finally fell pregnant, you and he were keeping the baby close.

“Well, we’re trying our best, Chairman. Each week we’re hopeful.”

In other words, it translated to, back off old man. 

“Well I look forward to the happy news, I have high hopes for you both.”

Long story short, what he meant to say was, hurry the hell up you two, I’m growing impatient. 

“You’ll be the first to know, Chairman-” The eruption of Jong-in’s laugh pulled Jinwoo out of the conversation.

“It’s true! Ask Yoonho.”

“Don’t ask me anything.” Baek turned away and chugged his drink with heavy eyes.

Jong-in chuckled and took a sip of his own drink, clearly giddy. “While we’re guild rivals, we get on better than others think, even Tae-gyu knows what I’m talking about- oh… maybe not.”

Hunter Lim snored away on the table, dribbling and nursing a bottle of Soju. The table acknowledged the humor and Hunter Ma commanded the table with anecdotes. Jinwoo wanted to join in, he did, because it made him understand the people he spent the most time with, but his gut told him to observe Jong-in closely.

You were unaware of this, watching Ma chuckle and tell embarrassing stories of a drunken and foolish Baek. Jong-in stole brief glances at you now and then, each time softer than the last. What was he thinking about?

About you? Friendly or intimate- no doubt there were intimate thoughts going through that head of his like a neanderthal. 

He bet Jong-in had all kinds of lewd thoughts up there in that head of his, all fabricated of course. Seeing as Jinwoo had seen you naked, touched the curves of your body and came inside you most nights, whatever Jong-in could conjure up in his mind sure as hell wouldn’t be anywhere near the real thing. Jinwoo had that edge over him, though it never got rid of the intrusive thoughts. The darker side he’d been battling with since he killed that staff member, well, even before then. Maybe after the first person he'd killed.

Each thought darker and more violent than the last though he never usually acted on them.

Since having you in his grasp, Jinwoo found them cropping up more and more often and the thought of being in a position that he’d be expected to let you go in a month didn’t help alleviate the symptoms.

It made his eye twitch, seeing another man look at you the way Jong-in did, he wanted to hurt him in a way he'd never recover with all of the mage healing in the world. He wanted him gone from your life completely, eradicated and wiped from existence.

How could he look at you the way he was doing right now when the time came and you had a newborn baby in your arms? Jong-in had a reputation to uphold as a guildmaster and having a child of his own would make quite the scandal if he was pursuing another woman.

Though Jinwoo simply wouldn’t have it, he couldn’t just get rid of him in the way he was fantasising about.

A quick dagger slice to his throat to watch the red slip out all over the floor, to see Jong-in gargle and panic because his mana would slip away with his consciousness and no amount of stupid fire would save him.

Maybe drowning him in a water dungeon, so that the only way his fire attacks would serve him any purpose would boil the water until his flesh melted from his face.

It had to be something slow… something painful. Something memorable-

“Jinwoo? Are you ready to go?”

Had he zoned out again? “Yeah, let’s get going.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Hunter Sung.”

Another threat from the Chairman. Jinwoo saw it on the shining rim of his scotch glass, Jin-chul watched him too over the edge of his sunglasses. He stood and waited for the Chairman, allowing him space to pass and land a firm hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m counting on you.”

I bet you are, Chairman Go. 

Jinwoo was counting on it as well, to keep you close to him and take care of you. There was a lot to think about, much to discuss with you. Many concerns he wasn’t so sure he should come out with until he could investigate further.

Though his quest remained the same.

To get you pregnant within the next month.

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974, @snowy-violet, @sky2lar, @starrynights23x, @minh907

@yessirr7, @aussie-boys-wife, @yihona-san06, @mashiromochi, @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator, @alia-17, @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle, @towomatos

@stormnightingale, @johnnysactualgf, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @johnnysactualgf, @notleclerc

@minkuro, @misakicchi, @lovingyeet, @soft-dots, @gina239

@sabrina-senpai, @tsukimoon-chan, @afkmylajah, @livelaughlovekuni, @keiva1000

@delusionillusion322, @dreamingoftomorrow, @gina239,@blxuqueenie, @stardust0709

@chahaezii, @athanasia10

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[mindmelter]

Out Of Battery

Hunter was running across the empty football field, ball in hand, when he abruptly stopped, his body stiffening as his head tilted downward. In an instant, he was completely still, frozen in place like a lifelike statue.

Not far away from him, watching from the stands were two nerds. Micah and Elliot.

Micah is a young gay nerd from the robotics class. He is a scrawny young man with big glasses and messy dark hair. In his hands, he held a technological controller with a long antenna. He looked surprised to see Hunter standing motionless in the middle of the empty football field.

"Ummm... Is that supposed to happen?" Elliot asked on his side. Elliot is a chubby guy with round cheeks and bad acne, he also wears glasses and has a distinctly nerdy look to him, just like Micah.

Micah shook the remote control and pressed a variety of buttons while his eyes were still locked on the frozen quarterback as if he expected Hunter to move again at the press of a button, but Hunter remained motionless.

________________________

Elliot and Micah were best friends. They had clicked instantly on their first day in robotics class two years ago, bonding over their shared passion for robotics and science — and, admittedly, for hot jocks like Hunter Knox.

Hunter Knox was the golden boy of Crestwood University, the kind of guy everyone admired or envied. As the star quarterback of the football team, his name was well-known across campus, and his face was plastered on banners at every game.

With his chiseled jawline and a body sculpted like a Greek god, Hunter looked like he had stepped straight out of a gay man's dream. Girls swooned at his every move, but to Hunter, it was all just a natural part of being him: the untouchable, straight, all-American jock who seemed destined for greatness...

While Hunter knew that most Girls wanted to be with him and some guys wanted to be him... unknown to him, two gay nerds from the robotics class wanted to HAVE him.

They loved sharing their deep gay fantasies of what they wished they could do with the star quarterback as they watched Hunter dominate the field. Elliot's fantasy was to dominate Hunter, and Micah's fantasy was to be dominated by him. It didn't take long for their passion for robotics and for Hunter to merge into something much darker...

One day, Micah came up with a plan. He told Elliot he had created nanorobots capable of turning Hunter into their lifeless slave drone. The idea filled Elliot's eyes with excitement. The thought of controlling Hunter, the unattainable star of the campus, was his ultimate fantasy. He could hardly believe Micah's bold claim, yet the potential of their combined genius and obsession made it feel within reach.

"But... how would that work?" Elliot asked.

"The nanorobots will enter his system once ingested, spreading through his body and rewiring his brain to obey our every command. Once his brain is remade, he'll be our perfect, obedient drone."

Elliot's heart pounded as he imagined the possibilities. "Hunter... doing whatever we want?"

Micah nodded, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Exactly. He'll be ours to control, to mold into whatever we desire."

"I'm in! Let's make Hunter ours!" Elliot responded without thinking twice.

That night during football practice, they put their plan into action. Elliot was the team's waterboy, so he had easy access to the locker room. While the players were still at practice, Elliot walked into the empty locker room and spiked Hunter's water bottle with Micah's nanorobots. They looked like transparent sand, so they blended perfectly with the water.

After football practice, the team filed into the locker room, laughing and messing around like they always did at the end of every practice. Hunter, as usual, was the center of attention, surrounded by his teammates who were joking and horsing around with him, trying to impress their leader.

Hunter took his water bottle and gulped down. And after a few minutes, he started to feel his mind becoming foggy, he couldn't focus on what his friends were saying anymore, he couldn't think... when Hunter came to himself, the locker room was already empty. All his teammates had left for their homes, leaving him alone.

Hunter was still dizzy like he was trapped in a dreamlike state. He slowly stood up and tried to leave the locker room, but for some reason, he decided to stay—wearing nothing but his white jockstrap. He had no idea why he was waiting. Waiting for who? he asked himself. It felt like something inside his mind was telling him what to do.

As the minutes passed, Hunter's mind grew even foggier and more vacant, until he froze in place in the middle of the locker room. His eyes remained open, staring blankly ahead as drool began to trickle from his mouth.

Suddenly, the locker room door opened, and Micah and Elliot walked in.

"Lock the door, Elliot," Micah asked his friend.

"Holly shit!" Elliot shouted at Hunter, standing with eyes open. "H-Hunter? Are you still... you?"

Micah chuckled at his friend's reaction.

"Don't worry, he's totally out," Micah assured his friend, he then turned to Hunter with a grin, "Hunter, be a good jock drone and get on all fours on the bench and don't move."

"Command accepted!" Hunter responded with a robotic voice and did what he was told to do, getting on all fours on the bench, with his ass exposed, barely covered by the white jockstrap.

"This is crazy! I can't believe we have the quarterback as our personal drone now!" Elliot muttered, more to himself than to his friend.

"At least for a few days," Micah responded, searching for something in his bag.

"What do you mean for a few days? I thought you said the nanorobots would rewrite his brain permanently."

"Oh, his brain is permanently gone, that's for sure. The nanorobots made tiny holes everywhere in his brain, there's no way back. But the nanorobots can't work forever. Like everything in this universe, they need energy. Soon, their energy will run out, and Hunter will be left as a meat mannequin. What I'm saying is; His jock brain was fried and turned into a processor device, and the nanorobots are what makes it function. That's why I created this recharging device." Micah pulled out of his bag a thick black battery.

"Wooo-ho-ho... I didn't know they were this huge." Elliot said, impressed by the size of the battery. "Where do you plan to put this?"

Micah smirked at his friend. Without saying a word, he walked over to Hunter and slapped his muscular ass. "Right here," he said. "His asshole will become his only source of energy. Isn't that beautiful? When the nanorobots run out of power, they'll travel down to his ass, where they'll be recharged by the battery. Then they'll return to his brain, fully energized."

"Couldn't you make the battery smaller? I'm sure a straight alpha jock like Hunter never had anything up his ass before."

Micah chuckled, "A big guy like Hunter needs a big battery to give energy to all those muscles, don't you agree? The bigger the toy, the bigger the battery is."

He then pulled Hunter's jockstrap down, and caressed his muscular jock ass for a while, giving the cheeks a few playful slaps, then proceeded to insert the battery into Hunter's ass. The battery was pretty thick, so he was having trouble making it past Hunter's tight virgin hole.

While Micah worked on the battery, Elliot decided to inspect Hunter. He crouched down in front of the bench, his face just a few inches from Hunter's, and gently stroked his handsome face.

"It's so weird—he's even more handsome up close. I never thought I'd ever be this close to his face." Elliot's thumb slowly traced Hunter's soft lips, then gently pressed inside his mouth.

"Well, I never thought I would be shoving a battery up his ass, so..." Micah said from behind Hunter, still struggling to fit the battery.

"I want to insert something else in him," Elliot pulled down his pants and stood in front of Hunter's blank face.

"What are you doing?" Micah asked.

"We need to make sure the nanorobots really fucked with his brain by making him do something he would never do," Elliot then pressed the tip of his small dick at Hunter's lips and ordered him to replicate the best blowjob he had ever received. In which Hunter obeyed. Elliot moaned at the feel of the quarterback's wet mouth wrapping around his short cock. Elliot was soon face fucking Hunter without mercy, burying Hunter's face in his fat gut.

After a few minutes, Micah finished pushing the battery inside Hunter, with only the tip sticking out.

Hunter immediately came to life, standing straight with a blank facial expression, making both Micah and Elliot watch in awe.

"Hunter Knox is fully recharged. Battery level at 100%" Hunter said in a robotic tone, his pupils glowing blue.

Since that night, Hunter became their jock drone, capable of moving only when having a battery lodged in his ass. Micah and Elliot programmed the nanorobots to put Hunter on autopilot so no one would notice Hunter had become a lifeless robot.

They did want Hunter to succeed and become a famous football player, so they let him continue on the team. But they grew worried when Hunter began showing a lack of motor skills during his football games. His coach was furious, his team was disappointed, and no one knew what was wrong with him—except for the two tech nerds from the robotics class.

Elliot then had the idea to create a controller that would connect to the nanorobots inside Hunter's brain, so they could control Hunter during the games. They were never sports guys, but they sure loved video games, so the idea of controlling Hunter like a character in a video game sounded perfect to them. But before using the controller in an actual game, they decided to test drive it so they were sure it was good to use in a game.

________________________

Back to the present, Hunter was now standing frozen in the middle of the empty field, just as lifeless as the ball he was holding.

"I think his battery ran out," Micah said, trying one last time to press the—On/Off—button on the controller. He sighed at realizing it had no effect on Hunter.

"I thought we only needed to change his batteries once a week. You replaced it this Monday, and today is Wednesday. It shouldn't have run out yet! Imagine if this had happened during a big game!" Elliot said.

"Dude, I know that! I'm the one who designed the batteries, remember? I guess all the intensive training we've been putting him through made the battery run out faster... But don't worry," Micah said with a smirk, putting his hand inside his bag and pulling out a bigger and thicker battery. "I wasn't expecting to use it so soon, but we have no choice. I designed a new more potent battery. It should last for two weeks. Why don't you go put it on him?"

Elliot didn't have to be asked twice, he took the battery and walked to Hunter.

"Hey there big guy," Elliot gently caressed Hunter's thick biceps, "You poor thing. We tired you out, didn't we? But don't worry. I'm going to give you life with a brand new battery," Elliot stood behind Hunter and pulled his black spandex shorts in a single motion, exposing Hunter's big muscular ass and long flaccid cock. Hunter's cock was 6 Inches when soft.

Elliot crouched down and spread Hunter's cheeks to have access to his hole. He could see the tip of the battery pocking out of the hole, so he pulled the old battery out and inserted the new one with some level of difficulty since the new battery was thicker.

As soon as the new battery was fully inside, Elliot was caught off guard when Hunter came to life and stood at attention with his eyes now glowing blue. With a blank face, he started to recite, "Hunter Knox is fully recharged. Battery level at 100%"

Elliot grinned. "Take off your shirt and show me your armpits. I want to smell your musky armpits you stud."

"Command accepted." With that, Hunter took off his compression tank and exposed his armpits.

Elliot slowly caressed Hunter's hard abs, feeling the quarterback's powerful body under his fat hands. He had to get on his tiptoes to reach for Hunter's armpits. He took a deep sniff, smelling Hunter's sweaty musk after being forced to train for hours nonstop. Elliot's hands were all over the jock's sweaty body as he pressed his face into the armpits.

Hunter suddenly pushed Elliot away, his face filled with confusion and anger. "What the fuck? Who are you, nerd? Wait-what the hell am I doing here?"

Elliot gulped and looked at Micah for help at the stands, but Micah was distracted with the control remote.

"M-Micah... I need a little help here... turn him off NOW!"

Hunter got furious, "What did you say? Turn me off? I'm the one turning you fucking off!" Hunter walked towards Elliot with clenched fists. Elliot winced and closed his eyes as if already accepting his beating.

But then... Nothing.

Elliot slowly opened his eyes and was confused to see Hunter on his knees in front of him.

"Please come enjoy my body, Master. I'm a mindless jock toy for my Masters to use."

Elliot looked at Micah and saw his friend laughing hysterically at him. "I got you good this time! Didn't I?" Micah said to the remote control speakers, making Hunter repeat the same words to Elliot.

"Dude! Not funny! I thought he would kill me."

"Sorry dude, I couldn't help myself. How many times do I have to tell you he's gone? Let me make it up to you..." Micah then pressed a few buttons and suddenly Hunter spoke.

"Cock sucking mode activated! Please insert cock into Hunter's mouth."

Elliot's heart was still beating fast from the scare he just got, but at the same time, his cock got hard at the sight of Hunter on his knees, looking up at him with his mouth open and tongue swirling, just waiting to be used. Elliot moaned loudly as he felt Hunter's tongue swirling on his cock.

Micah had his finger on the remote thumbstick, making slow circular movements, which Hunter's tongue obeyed.

"It feels so good... yeah, suck that dick you cock sucking machine!"

"You think this feels good? Just watch this..." Micah then pressed another button on the remote, making Hunter's tongue swirl at an even faster pace.

"F-fuuuckkkk...AAARRRWWWGHH! This f-feels so gooood... How is his tongue moving so fast?"

"The new battery you just inserted gives him inhumane strength. That means his tongue is 50% stronger now. His new strength will make him win every single game, he's going to be invincible!"

Elliot was too lost in pleasure, "Who programmed you to be this good at sucking cock?" He groaned, gripping Hunter's head and fucking his mouth. "Oh right, we did—shit, I’m not gonna last longer..." Elliot pulled out and spurted all over Hunter's blank face.

"Now It's my turn to have some fun with our toy." Micah said.

The two friends then switched places. Elliot was sitting on the benches, controller in hand, with a press of a button, Hunter's cock grew hard to 8 inches.

"Fucking mode activated. Please get ready to be inserted by Hunter's cock."

Micah was soon lying naked face up on the grass field with Hunter on top of him, fucking him with powerful animalistic thrusts. Elliot was controlling Hunter's thrusts with the remote thumbsticks, each move of the thumbstick would send Hunter's cock deep inside Micah's ass.

Every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through Micah's slender frame, his moans were muffled only by the sounds of flesh slapping. He could feel the quarterback's strength behind every motion, firm hands gripping his hips possessively. Micah's glasses had slipped down his nose, his hair messier than usual, but he didn’t care. In that moment he was lost in the heat and dominance of the man he’d secretly dreamed about for so long.

Elliot was also having fun, he enjoyed controlling Hunter to fuck his best friend. He wasn't romantically attracted to Micah, but in a sense, it felt like they were having sex. Elliot pressed a button, releasing Hunter's orgasm, filling Micah with jock cum.

________________________

Hunter became a successful and famous professional football player, just as the two friends had planned. He was invincible on the field—no one could match his strength or skill. To the world, Hunter Knox was the epitome of strength, success, and masculinity—a legendary football star adored by millions. But behind closed doors, he belonged entirely to the two nerds, their perfect jock drone.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Devils may love: leaving home, loving life and loosing you

This is part 1 going over dmc3, I’m gonna maybe write parts for the other games if people are interested. Also maybe will eventually write some stuff for the pov of other characters in love with the blind dumbass that is reader.

You never thought that in your life you’d end up working at a place called “devil may cry”

When you initially found a job listing for the job it wasn’t even named that yet, and you never knew how much it would end up affecting your life

You used to fear not being able to pay rent on a daily basis

Feared getting mugged on your way home from a late shift or if your coupons expired before you bought groceries

But now you feared having demons knocking down your door and breathing down your neck on a daily basis

Let alone the fact that you had to deal with that alongside whatever other world ending event you somehow got caught up in

And dealing with taxes

And ensuring that Dante payed for the power and hydro in time

And….

Well there were a lot of and’s with the job that would go on to change your life

Whether that change was fully good or fully bad was up to debate

God knows how long you’ve weighed both sides in your mind

But it for sure made your life a hell of a lot more lively

Quite literally in the hell metaphor

And it all started when you found an add in the paper right after leaving a previous job and needing cash quick

You had a shitty apartment but rent was due in a short amount of time

Couldn’t rely on your parents either, not when they put you in this situation in the first place and you’d took the opportunity to get as far away from their shit as possible

Which meant you had fairly limited options

Especially with the fact you’d also had to drop out at the finish line of high school to make ends meet

That had ended up biting you in the ass more than anything

But the paper in your hands said little qualifications were needed

So it was your last chance

You never knew what it entail when you entered through the double doors of the newly bought building

The street lights above you illuminating your hope filled face holding your short resume

Admittedly sitting down for the job interview with Dante was a rather…daunting task

Less because he was intimidating

And moreso for the fact that the man (you say that hesitantly because he was literally the same age as you) who introduced himself as Dante sat with his feet kicked up on his desk and barely even glanced at your resume

The paper simply ended up in his hands for his eyes to skim before letting it be placed atop a stack of papers that looked like overdue bills nearby

Nor had he asked any work related question like “how do you work well in a team environment” or “do you have any prior experience to jobs like this”

Instead your potential future employer snacked on a slice of pizza and asked you questions like “know any places that deliver mid-apocalypse?” And “want a slice? Can’t guarantee you’ll get more than a piece or two with how fast I eat”

You can’t say you’d had any job interviews end up like this

They mostly ended up with fake smiles and promises to contact you if you got the position and never hearing a peep from them again

But Dante seems all too lax to be considered serious at all

Well besides his serious addiction to take out evident by the few leftover stacked pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese swept off to the side

Whenever you bring up your resume he waves it off or switches topics

He definitely didn’t even read through your previous job experiences

He just read your name and your phone number

What’s worse is that this wouldn’t even be the worst boss you’d had

Just potentially the weirdest

And that’s saying something

But At least he’s not some old creep the age of your dad leering at you

He’s just a horned up teen boy

He’s 18, just like you and just as in need of needing to get by on his own as you are

Though you think for different circumstances

By how he keeps a small photo of a blond woman on his desk, the only thing comparably well kept on the scratched up mahogany slab implies something

Something your not privy to (yet) but something none the less

A thing that leaves him both careless and untethered all the same

Perhaps for both good and bad

Whilst your seemingly the opposite, you can’t help but think of your parents with a bitterness that crawls up and wraps round every memory good (not many I the first place) or bad

Along with the fact that you can’t and don’t want to go back to them and would rather try to scrape by on your own

Even if it meant dropping out before graduation to do so

Just so you could get a job to afford rent since minimum wage wouldn’t get you by

Well…it certainly has a lot of weight to it both

Maybe something he recognizes when despite your made up professional appearance there are some cracks in it

How you nervously play with your hands

The fact that your his age and asking for a job that’d be enough to afford groceries and a roof over your head

No matter how leaky or loud the neighbours were

So when the interview is over you begin to count your losses

Grabbing your bag and trying not to hang your head on the way out

He must’ve just been messing with you

Or at least that’s what you think until he stops you asking where you going

And you can only tilt your head in confusion saying that you were heading back to your apartment

“But your already on the job”

“Huh? But I thought you were pulling my leg”

“What do you mean? I hired you already”

“What?! When???”

“When I opened the door and found an absolute babe in front of me asking for a job”

You think your already starting to regret this choice

But cash is king and you need some of that dollar to get by this month

You’ll just resign when you get on your feet and find something better

(News flash that doesn’t happen. Oh poor young naive past you)

Working at this still yet to be named paranormal/mercenary agency is a relatively easy task

Answer the phone, organize Dante’s increasingly messy desk, file some paperwork and make sure the bills are payed on time

Maybe throw out some old takeout and fight off the colony of raccoons in the back who started making a palace from pizza boxes

Somehow that ends up being the most odd but simultaneously normal thing you’d experienced yet

The place itself is actually quite cosy when you get used to it

Warm lighting accented by a the soft hum of the jukebox playing some 80’s power ballad

It makes for a nice mood when your sweeping up or filling things out

A comfy leather chair and a simple but effective desk for you to work at if it wasn’t already occupied

The smell of gunsmoke and cologne wafting in the air…alongside leftover pizza remains that you try to mask with fabreeze

On that half the job is simple

Effective as you mainly just ensured the place didn’t burn down

Or have the power taken again

Something you’d expect from being a secretary and or cleaner

(You will not say your a maid, Dante kept insisting that maybe he’d get you a proper costume to go with it that you quickly shut down)

And mainly answer the phone when Dante wasn’t there to butt in and take the receiver from you

But on the other hand working at this still unnamed place also means you were working with Dante

And that was a mixed bag in of itself

For as much as he initially intimated you with his display of guns right behind his desk or the sword casually strapped to his back

Or the ungodly amount of times you dealt with him covered head to toe covered in gore and blood

Or the fact he was your boss and could fire you at any moment

Dante’s intimidation factor quickly faded away into mild annoyance from his Dante..ness

Look you aren’t paid enough to deal with this crap-

To others Dante was the demon hunter

A mercenary of well known regard

A hero who saved the day and stopped the forces of hell

A badass with a penchant for overly complicated and dramatic theatrics

And dear god was he known for how he did this all effortlessly while seemingly being the coolest man ever known

But to you he was your annoying boss

This was both affectionately and as an insult due to the amount of times he’d gone out of his way to dump the bills on your desk and high tailed it out of the store using a mission as an eccuse

Dante as your employer is weird plain and simple

He has moments where he toys with you slightly

Pushing your buttons but never pushing too far 

Small jokes sent your way but nothing extreme

Knowing when you began to look genuinely upset and stopping before he accidentally crossed the line in the sand

He drapes himself over your shoulders while your trying to fill out his papers

Keyword his

Or he calls you by those god awful nicknames

He calls you a plethora of stuff: babe, baby, hot stuff, sugar

But most embarrassingly and most frequently

“honeypie~”

You’d swear with the amount of times he called you that you could permanently pay for the electricity bill and maybe even the water

A shit eating grin on his face as he drags out the pet name whenever he could in a sing-song manner

(Including in front of clientele and eventually the other members of dmc when they join…and it unfortunately sticks since everyone but Nero partakes in torturing you this way-)

You’ve chased him with his plethora of weapons many times trying to wipe that grin off his face

Yelling his name at the top of your lungs as he hopped over his desk and toppled the stack of still unsigned paperwork

The phone ringing conveniently has saved him too many times when you were just about to get revenge

The most effective threatening tool of them all was the well loved broom you’d swear you’d mastered at this point

But on the other hand Dante is equally kind as he is annoying

When not playfully teasing and joking Dante just talks to you

Sometimes it’s mundane things like asking for recommendations for new schlocky horror flicks to watch

Other times it’s complaining whatever demonic creature he was sent to exterminate

Something he had initially tried to hide from you before you very easily pointed out the literal demon heads he’d impaled on the walls weeks earlier

For all his bravado and being a bit of an ass he’s caring at his core

You see that through his actions that are both loud and clear and quiet and invisible

There are times he makes his care obvious

He watches intently and knows when your tired and pushing yourself to get things done even if your trying to hide it

The subtle lull of your head as exhaustion seeps into your bones

He gets up from whatever he was distracting himself with (typically a magazine of some sort)

Telling you to “take a break there babe. Don’t want you to keel over too soon” though the slight edge to it indicates his worry as he takes the paperwork off your desk and stashes it some place absurdly high

His go too method to get you to stop overworking

other times when you fall asleep at the front desk you wake up to find his coat draped over your shoulders and yourself relocated on a nearby couch

A small sticky note clinging to your face saying “don’t overwork yourself honepie, who else is gonna keep me in check. By the way there’s some leftover pizza for you in the fridge if I’m not back by when you wake up - your favorite devil hunter Dante :)”

How he offers to walk you home or let you stay the night if it was getting particularly late

Though whenever he makes that offer he ruins it with the wiggling of his eyebrows immediately after

And the cheeky grin that by that point your too tired to try and erase off his face

But even then, when he makes that offer you see in crystalline blue eyes the sincerity in them

A smidge of worry and maybe even a crumb of fear

His more subtle care comes in the form of how you find your area more safer than usual

Less muggings let alone demons slinking through the night

Apparently he made it known that these were his stomping grounds and with his reputation most demons knew to stay clear

Same for muggers as well with his name in the underworld

His other silent care comes in the form of finding your favourite snacks eventually stocked at in the small kitchen

It comes from a few stray questions here and there

Or noticing what you packed yourself for lunch/snacks

He never acknowledges it

But you do find he has a small smile when seeing you enjoy what he bought

Content without a thank you because seeing your smile was enough

how the jukebox now seems to contain songs you’d mentioned enjoying out of nowhere

Or songs you’d already liked in the machine playing more often

Because that’s the sort of person Dante was

The man who when you call in sick ends up at your place with wanton soup and medicine

Never asking for anything In return except for you to recover properly

Or The fact he always he always buys you a strawberry sundae alongside his own or makes sure to buy a split pizza incase you didn’t like his toppings

It’s perhaps because of this you keep telling yourself you’ll put off finding another job

That the job market was bad right now even if you’d seen another promising job

Just because seeing his stupid grin when he sees you enter was payment enough even without the cash

“Dante I swear to god! Get back here!”

“Sorry honepie! Got a job to do!!”

“You’re not leaving until you pay the god damn bills you asshole!!! If you can deal with demons then you can deal with me you bastard!!!” Raising the broom you whack his head, making the devil hunter groan and he returns to running for his life out the double doors “also pick a god damn name for this place already! A business needs a name!”

You end up seeing Dante in various particular intimate moments in his life (Even before all the craziness that would come later on down the line)

It first begins when you see the days he’s drained from wear and tear

From the jobs that went bad even if he made it back alive

his shoulders sag even when he tries to act like his cocky self

His grin more strained as blue eyes hold back tears from failure to save someone

You don’t ask

Never have the heart to

But you do find yourself pulling him close even with the height difference

The first time it happens he goes stiff

Still as a statue in such an uncharacteristic manner

Thinking he’s uncomfortable you tried to pull away, an apology at the tip of your tongue when shaky arms pulled you back

Clinging to you as knees buckle and he ends up in the crook of your neck

You don’t mention how his sobs are heartwrenching

Nor that they haunt you with how vulnerable it sounds

Instead you thread fingers through his snowy hair, weaving through the soft locks

You never ask what happened

Instead you say that you’d order pizza tonight, on the house

With a few sobs he tries to argue but you don’t relent

And somehow the stubborn man you called your boss relents

Perhaps for the first time you’d ever seen

It’s later on when these moments happen though few and far between that he opens up bit by bit

It takes about a year but Like small fractures in a dam it eventually breaks and lets out the waterworks

He tells you he had a dad, a stern but caring man who disappeared one day and probably died

He tells you that he had a brother, his twin who was his opposite in almost every way possible down to contrasting favourite colours

The most caring mom in the world who died as flames consumed their home

He could only stay hidden in the closet

Scared and alone

Powerless to it all

How for years he was alone with only a trail of regrets and people he cared for ending up in the crossfire

How he’s only part human (though to be honest you already kinda put that together after he walked off being impaled one day)

All because of him

That despite it all he only ended up failing time and time again

And most surprisingly that he was scared

Scared for you

Because everyone he cared for ended up dead

And that he’s sorry for being selfish and keeping you around despite the risk

That you have to hate him for how annoying he was

For the danger he brought even being in the same room as you

It’s admittedly a lot

But you hold him, letting him get it all out

Hands that had seen so much loss and blood clutching you like you were the last valuable thing in the world and simultaneously made of glass

It just solidifies your words when you tell him that honestly he was a giant pain in the ass

A admittedly terrible boss

A smartass and flirty bastard

But he was a good person

Someone who did his best despite the circumstances

Because no matter how much he was kicked down and spat on he took it with a cocky smile

Never letting the salt in the wound sting in front of others

And that most importantly you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hurt

But you’d stick with him

For some reason despite all the risks he lists off you wanna stay

Your not really sure as to why

But you stay and that’s what matters

The risk he practically begs you to consider

Yet you stay

So in the vulnerable moments you wait for him by the doors

Waiting and ready for him to collapse into your arms

Ignoring the blood and gore that you’d inevitably have to wash out your clothes yet again

But it’s a price to pay when the man you call your friend

Your technical boss who was more like your own employee than anything with how you heckled him to get work done

Your best friend and worst migraine holds you with such fragility

You never confirm with him but you think the last time someone hugged him like this was his mom

All those years ago as the blazing flames surrounded them

It’s perhaps why he clutches you so close

Hoping to not let go and have the past repeat itself

But unlike back then you remind Dante that he’s not powerless anymore

He’s not the scared boy locked in a closet surrounded by the flames

He’s a man with the power to protect those weaker than him

Because he knows what it’s like to be powerless

To pray for a hand to reach out and to now be that hand for others

Despite what he thought you remind him that the truly powerful protect what they love

(Unbeknownst to you, you are that love)

(The beating heart that makes his humanity all the more apparent and his demonic side all the more powerful with something to protect)

All the while you morn the fact that Dante and you are the same age

Both kids with no one seemingly but each other in this world and left to navigate with one another

Your both just kids

You’d heard too many of Dante’s stories about his childhood not to recognize the sight of his brother inside your apartment

White hair slicked back instead of messy locks framing his face

Their near identical features if not for the ominous threatening look in blue eyes that you knew Dante would never direct towards you even if you took the last slice or banned him from strawberry sundaes yet again

You’d think after all the stuff you’d been through due to Dante like the incident with the raccoons out back becoming infused with demon power

Or the amount of times you’d saved his sorry ass from going fully broke

That this would be the worst thing that could happen

An Incorrect assumption

Looking at his definitely evil twin brother you can’t help but sigh and put your hands up in defeat

He told you awhile back about his run In with his twin

Said twin trying to steal his half of the amulet that the half-demon always wore

Well “always wore” besides the times he’d go to take a shower and ask you to hold onto it for him for a bit

Then returning it once he was done, a certain shine of gratitude in his eyes when he sees you polished it for him

Anyways back to the evil twin thing, apparently Vergil gave back said amulet because “he said he could take it back anytime he wanted”

The death glare and that quote alone alerted you to what type of person you had in your apartment

And that’s not even accounting the fact that he’s also part demon and has a real ass katana with him

“So do you want me to write a note for him before you kidnap me? Or do you want me to call him instead?”

To be completely honest after the raccoon incident you can’t even be remotely surprised anymore

But this does either earn you amusement from said definitely evil brother or at least some brownie points for being compliant

“Your cooperating?”

“Listen sir…uh Vergil? I’m assuming your Vergil? Anyways Vergil I’m not paid enough to deal with this….and your brother said I’d be paid overtime if something like this happened. So if anything this a forced paid vacation”

To be honest that last part was mostly you trying to find some good in this admittedly shitty situation

You always had great copping skills or at least that’s what you told yourself

At least you’d hopefully get something out of this besides trauma

And potential scars physical and psychological

Or Maybe even death if your super unlucky and piss off the blue half demon

But that was an if

A big if due to the fact he hasn’t already cut you down implying he needed you for something

And hopefully that something would give Dante enough time to save you

God forbid he doesn’t or else you’d become a demon and claw your way out of hell to torture him with undone paperwork

And with that you end up as hostage/bait in a literal hell tower that spouted up from the ground

Vergil and some weird guy called Arkham holding you at the top of the tower like some princess

Guess in this case Dante would be your proverbial knight in shinning armour while Vergil was the dragon or something

The analogy wasn’t too far off with that weird ass jester occasionally popping up to piss you off when Vergil left the room

You couldn’t wait for the long nosed bastard to have some lead shoved inbetween his eyes for the fact he kept joking about your dead expression whilst being kidnapped

Unlike him you had some scraps of dignity you wanted to save

Plus what was even the point of kicking and screaming when you were up against a half demon and whatever else they had up their sleeves

Speaking of said other half demon though

Surprisingly you didn’t entirely mind Vergil

Was he an ass? Definitely

But at least you could have a conversation with him

Something that surprises even him when you spotted him pulling out a book of poetry

Specifically William Blake

Yeah, surprise surprise somehow that “useless” class in high school your parents hounded you about wasting your time on actually became relevant

You’d say you’d told them if it weren’t for the fact you never wanted to see either of them again

He reads quietly aloud not expecting you to finish the last part for him

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine-”

“The moon, like a flower, in heavens high bower, with silent delight, sits and smiles on, the night”

For the first time you see something crack in his stoic demeanour

a spark of something when he then turns to you

Surprise? Maybe even a hint of some sort of longing

You don’t know what he went through after he was separated from Dante, but you can only guess it was just as hard as his twin up to this point

So maybe finding someone with the same love for flowery words of a dead guy was comforting in some weird way

At least as comforting it could get for someone who hated humanity

He walks over to where you sat on the cold ground with your wrists and ankles bound, asking if you knew more of Blake’s work and when you nod

At that there’s a moment of silence and then he asks for your interpretation of old words on faded yellow pages

This leads you to discuss with Dante’s brother without being called a “useless human” 5 seconds in

Honestly sitting atop the weird demon tower debating with him wasn’t what you pictured

But it is a sure if a lot better than what you originally imagined

Mostly because it’s actually pretty fun

Vergil unlike Dante seems to like debating and discussing

Something that was hard to do with Dante because he either brushed it off or was more prone to changing the subject

You don’t blame him for it, stuff like this wasn’t his forte

But it was nice having someone to talk to about it

The two of you start off at first with Blake

Interpretations of his poems meanings

Particular passages either of you enjoyed

That evolves into discussion of other poets

Poe, Dickinson, Shakespeare, Wilde, frost and Shelley

But it later devolves into world views

Specifically his opinion on humanity

Because despite the fact that Vergil is part human and his fully demon father married a mortal woman and seemingly abandoned that part of himself

Vergil ended up despising his humanity

Thinking of it as inferior to his demonic half

Well, maybe hate was a strong word but he definitely looked down on humans

Yourself included but maybe a bit less considering he was talking with you instead of scowling silently as he did before

He was the opposite of Dante in every way

While Dante embraced his humanity Vergil shunned his own

But Vergil accepted his demonic half whilst Dante still remained hesitant of it

One brother was loud, the other silent

One Red and one blue

One Warm and one cold

Complete and total opposites in every manner of the word

While you don’t agree with Vergils views you do try to understand them

You make the effort of understanding him because you think he deserves as much

Not only because he was important to Dante but because like Dante he also was your age

He was a kid like you are even if he tried to act mature

He thinks his mom abandoned him that day in favour of Dante

Telling him she didn’t wouldn’t change his mind especially from you of all people

A human who’d never met her or was there for that event

Especially if Dante had tried and still couldn’t get through to him

So instead you reason with him in other such ways

Sparda had sealed off the demon from the human world for a reason

Didn’t that indicate something to him?

Plus he was already powerful enough by every other standard possible

He could outmatch any human that came his way

He raised a god damn hell tower to prove it

He was already top of the proverbial food chain with enough power

Dipping his toes into this though could shift those tides

Admittedly you knew jack shit about hell and it’s hierarchy besides the small tidbits Dante explained

And even then those snippets of information were from the small stories his dad told when he was younger so it was dubious at best

You’re not sure if Mr. Sparda had sanitized stories for his sons or if he told them the truth and didn’t cushion the blow

But it safe to say even the most powerful of humans couldn’t compare to the upper crust of hell

Plus the added bonus of It being closed off for who knows how long giving an even bigger question mark as to what’s down there

Because if hell is anything like humanity things change and demons get stronger

For all he knows he could be inviting that Mundus guy his father went against to his doorstep

And seeing how Sparda apparently had a difficult time defeating him at full power the odds weren’t in anyone’s favour

That last part seems to shake him a bit more than you’d initially thought

You see the stone cold demeanour crack slightly

“Are you calling me weak?”

“I’m not, Far from it. But all I’m saying is that opening that portal is opening pandora’s box.” For a moment you pause watching his stewing expression “there’s no undoing it if you do and no telling what your unleashing on not only everyone else but yourself. Your not guaranteed anything from this, let alone the power you seek ”

Distantly if you listen hard enough you swear you hear gunshots ring out on the lower floors of the tower

The familiar rhythm and melody of ebony and ivory’s gunshots

You’d heard them too many times to be able to memorize the sound

But along with that your alerted to the fact that someone else besides Dante is in the tower

Something Vergil seems less than amused with

Not to mention the fact he looks like he’s perpetually 5 seconds away from stabbing that Arkham guy nearly any time the man opens his mouth

Something you can’t exactly complain about since you’d also found him plain weird

And that’s saying something

The only thing out that bald freak’s mouth that you agreed with was that a storm was approaching

Both physical and metaphorical as you sit when the rain begins to fall

Sitting atop this ancient tower of stone you can’t help but find some irony in it all

Sparda had sealed away this unholy tower to stop the passage from one world to the next

But ultimately it’s one of Sparda’s sons who tries to resurrect it and undo his fathers work while the other wants to topple it for humanity’s sake as his father did

It was like a twisted form of jenga with this Tower of Babel

With you unfortunately at the top of the tower waiting for it to topple

The moon hangs high in the sky, Illuminating the droplets that shine

The pale silver light reminding you of both of the twins hair

Dante’s is left down to frame his face, free and messy just like he is

Whilst Vergils is pushed back and sleek, professionalism and an air of confidence in it

Never had you been as relived in your life until that point when you see Dante’s knotted messy mop of hair

Slightly stained with blood and viscera that soon began to wash away under the rain

You can’t help but yell his name in sheer excitement, his eyes light up

Lurching forwards your stopped not only by the fact that your currently tied up with uncomfortable ass rope but also the fact that Vergil unsheathe his sword in front of you

A indignant huff escaping him

(From your yell or his brother your not sure…probably both considering him)

You see your reflection in the blade alongside the hollow presence of the moon

Her silent presence a small comfort in this entire situation despite her impartialness in helping

(You do not see the blue wearing brother glance down at you for the briefest of moments)

You can’t do anything but watch as the two fight

Blow after blow

Slash after slash

Round after round fired from ebony and ivory

All the while you stay huddled to the ground trying to desperately stay out the way

Your works cut out for you though on account the two seem to pivot away if they get too close

No matter if either was about to win Dante would pull back if either him or Vergil got too close to you for comfort

And you think even Vergil seemed to do the same for some reason

Maybe he wanted to kill you later or something

But the turning point comes and red stains the cold ground

Yamato impaling itself through Dante’s chest while you can only watch

You can’t help but scream his name again as he falls and the necklace is torn from his neck

The heirloom he seemed to only trust you with being stolen

Vergil smoothed his hair back under the rain in a comedically villain manner that takes you out of it for a moment

This is your life now

Captive atop a tower while two half demon brothers duked it out

Dante twitches, ready to get up but Vergil takes Dante’s own sword and stabs him with it

Vergil and Arkham talk for a moment but your too distracted to pay their words any attention

Not when your focused on Dante

and then a beam of light shoots out Dante’s sword and the sword changes?

And then Dante’s back up again

This all happens in the span of a couple minutes the while your gaping at the scene

Because a) you knew Dante had some type of magic deus ex machina bullshit but you didn’t know he could get stabbed multiple times and survive. Mind you, you’d seen him stabbed once or twice before and walk it off but several times in a row was something you didn’t expect him t just walk off either

plus b) all this time he could get impaled several times over and yet his ass would run like you were coming at him with a chainsaw when you were trying to whack him on the head with a broom a few days back

You don’t get much time to focus on that anymore

Not when Vergil picks you up and walks to the edge of the tower

All the while Dante stumbles to his feet

A bloodied cough erupting from his chest as he tried to stumble forwards with his arm outstretched to you

“Oh please god no, can’t you just take the stairs-“ before you get to finish your plea Vergil takes a leap off the tower with you firmly on his shoulder grasping him for dear life “DANTE!!”

Never had you thought that your life would end up like this

And it all came from a singular job ad

[darkmatilda]

𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer just wants to have his quiet moment with a book and coffee in the morning, but the universe (or more specifically a certain someone) demands his heroics instead.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, ARACHNOPHOBIA! (talk about spiders but no real spiders lol)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.9k

𝐚/𝐧: request marathon masterlist

Spencer’s day started off very well.

He woke up feeling well-rested, so the coffee he grabbed on the way was more for the taste than for the guarantee he’d survive the next few hours. Even his step was somewhat lighter when he arrived at work among the first, only running into Derek and Rossi, who were engrossed in a discussion about cigars.

"JJ told me she might be a little late," he informed them, taking a seat nearby and placing a large white mug on the table.

His friend had indeed called him about fifteen minutes earlier, asking him to pass the message along. Henry had suddenly fallen ill, and she had to find someone to watch him at the last minute. The two he addressed didn’t even react, too deeply immersed in the universe of cigars to concern themselves with the outside world.

Rossi was just raising one hand and leaning forward slightly, as if about to deliver a piece of life wisdom recorded somewhere on ancient scrolls. Morgan, listening intently, barely blinked, as if he feared missing some secret hidden in Rossi’s every move.

Reid rolled his eyes.

If he tackled a crossword puzzle with that much dedication, he’d be greeted with a cheerful morning, nerd.

He decided to take advantage of having arrived early and bury his nose in a book for a while, but before he could pull it out of his bag, his phone rang.

He reached for it, briefly thinking it might be JJ again, calling to say she’d be even later. But the number flashing on the screen wasn’t hers — it wasn’t even saved in his contacts — yet he recognized it.In fact, very few numbers in his phone were saved, and when they were, it was formally, with full names. Most of them, though, he simply remembered.

Just like this one.

He looked at the phone and sighed.

There was a good chance that, right at that very moment, his good morning was coming to an end…

“Come here,” ranged out a sharp order, just as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“What?”

Had they agreed to meet and he’d forgotten? Maybe she’d told him she would pass him some results that day. Still, if it was work-related, there was no way he would have forgotten. Which left him more than confused.

“To my lab,” the woman said, her words coming out through clenched teeth. She let out a breath through her nose and, still with a strange tension in her voice, added, “You need to come here.”

He stayed silent for a moment, pushing his lips out in thought.The coffee and the book sitting in front of him were practically looking at him with puppy eyes, and who was he to abandon them for someone who was probably about to use him for something weird?

Maybe she actually needed a test subject.

Either way, he didn’t really feel like going anywhere just because she said so.

“S-sorry, can’t hear you, bad–conne-ction,” he muttered into the phone, cupping his hand slightly over his mouth to create that robotic, crackling effect. “S-ome interference…”

“You fucking asshole,” she hissed so sharply he felt a shiver run down his spine. “I want you here in five minutes. If I’m still alive by then. It’s an emergency, Reid.”

After those words, she simply hung up, leaving him staring at his phone. Emergency, she’d said. And she had sounded like something serious had actually happened.Spencer cast one last, longing look at his book and coffee, then rose from his seat.

Rossi and Morgan didn’t even notice.

On the way to her lab, he wondered what could have possibly happened so early in the morning. A few potential theories crossed his mind, but none of them seemed very likely.

Besides, if it had been something really dangerous, she probably wouldn’t have been able to reach for her phone. And even if she could, he would have been the last person she’d call. She’d rather be rescued by Strauss riding a white horse than by him.

He assumed she was lying to get him there. For some reason.

He pushed the door open with a sigh and...stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. His eyebrows raised. The woman shot him an angry look, suggesting she had expected him earlier. He might have been scared, if not for the fact that she was standing on the counter, both feet planted firmly, looking down at it as if it were her boat in a vast sea.

"Kill it,” she said.

Spencer, still confused, looked around. The lab was empty, and perfectly safe.

"IIs there a serial killer hiding here or something?”

“Worse,” she replied, shaking her head seriously. He continued to stare at her, more than skeptical, at which point she sighed in irritation. “Don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind. I didn’t just jump on this damn table for sport.”

“Well, there are different kinds of hobbies. Not everyone has to hit the gym...”

"There’s a spider,” she interrupted, pointing at a spot on the floor. She took a breath as if preparing to recount a traumatic story. “I dropped something, I bent down to pick it up, and it ran across my hand.”

Watching her shudder, Spencer nodded in understanding, giving her exactly six seconds of silence for her dramatic performance.

He then snorted.

“And this is the emergency you called me for?” he asked with pity.

She crossed her arms over her chest, which, in its own way, looked impressive but mostly funny, considering she was still standing on the counter. Her posture remained perfectly straight and proud; he had to give her credit for that.

“Yes, this is the emergency because this…pest is preventing me from doing my job. And my job is connected to your job. You know, for your own benefit, just kill it.”

They stared at each other in prolonged silence. She, clearly frustrated by his lack of response. Reid… unexpectedly finding a source of amusement in the whole situation. After all, it was rare for him to be the one on the mocking side of their interactions. What a wonderful feeling.

So he decided to have a little more fun, standing in a relaxed, unhurried posture.

"How big was it?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

She rolled her eyes upward, at the ceiling not that far from her head.

“It’s important that it was there. Not important how big.” After these words, her thoughts wandered for a moment, blinking. “Probably the only time anyone has said that seriously, actually meaning it.”

Spencer couldn't understand why anyone would have never said something like that about spiders before. He shrugged, continuing.

"What color was it?”

"For heaven's sake…”

"Black, brown, gray…”

“Black!”

“Was its abdomen more round or elongated?”

“WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING—”

“I’m trying to identify what species it is,” he spread his arms. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

She took in a deep breath, frustrated.

“Why are you acting like catching a spider is harder than catching an unsub?”

“Unsubs are usually a little bigger,” he pointed out, using two fingers to indicate the size of a typical spider that sometimes makes its way into a house. “It’s easier to, you know, notice them…”

“Oh, why did I have to call you?” she asked, burying her hands in her hair in regret over that decision, her voice dripping with exhaustion from the situation.

Unable to stop a satisfied grin, Spencer shrugged.

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he admitted.

She stood there for a moment, hands furiously on her hips, her eyes gleaming with the question of whether he was ever actually going to do anything. He held her fiery gaze for a second, before sighing in surrender. His coffee and book were still waiting for him, and since he'd decided to take on this side quest, he might as well deal with it quickly.

Feeling her watchful eyes on him, he moved toward the spot she had pointed to as the monster's lair. He leaned over, trying to spot it in the shadow cast by one of the cabinets. After a moment of analysis… he scoffed.

He picked up the black, hairy thing and turned toward her.

At the sight, she instinctively took a step back, nearly falling off the counter. She spread her arms out to the sides to keep her balance.

"How can you touch that…”

“It’s not a spider,” he interrupted, holding out his open hand. His eyebrows were raised with a mix of genuine amusement and sarcastic mockery. “It’s an eyelash.”

He took a step toward the counter where she stood so she could take a look. With an unreadable expression, but her jaw slightly clenched, she leaned in to get a closer look, still not coming down from the counter. She did it slowly and carefully, as if suspecting he might be joking and actually holding a spider.

Her jaw tightened further as she realized.

“It’s an eyelash,” she confirmed with a barely noticeable nod. “A fake eyelash. It must have fallen out of one of my team members.”

She avoided his gaze, which Spencer deeply regretted. After a minute of silence, without a word, he extended his hand toward her, offering to finally help her down to the ground. Only then did she catch his eye — and he deliberately hid his smirk for a moment. Slowly, she accepted his offer, placing her hand in his, and grabbed onto his elbow as her other foot touched down, still seeking her full balance.

Before she could say anything, Spencer tilted his head slightly to the side.

"So the fake eyelash ran across your hand?” he asked.

She yanked her hand out of his grip.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“What an irrefutable argument.”

"That was the last time I ever asked you for help with anything. The real spider probably escaped while you were interrogating me about what it had for dinner!”

He actually gaped at her, impressed she still managed to turn this whole situation against him. At that, the corners of her mouth curled up smugly.

He shook his head.

“Fine. And that was the last time I saved you from a spider.”

"Fine!”

"Fine!”

"Your fine was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m not giving you the last word.”

“Oh, babe, how could you give back something you never had?”

Her scoff sounded louder in his ears than it should have, and combined with the mischievous glint in her eyes—and the fact that her face wasn't exactly far from his—it made swallowing feel like a real task by the time he finally turned to leave.

"You’re even later than I am,” JJ noted when he finally returned, eyeing him with surprise.

It pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t caught all of what she said, but he figured she was commenting on the fact that he’d been the lastto show up — the rest of the team was already there.

He scratched at his forehead, fighting off a small, traitorous smile that had decided to creep onto his mouth without asking for permission. Or consent. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I had a…minor emergency.”

He grabbed his abandoned coffee cup. His smile disappeared as fast as it had come. The coffee was stone cold.

[ilostthewar]

Another extension for Omega!Soap introducing Omega!Reader to his pack!

So, Soap knew he was making a big step here. He’s asking you to come meet his pack, who has a reputation for being intense. But more than that, he’s asking you, an unmated Omega, to come meet his two alphas and beta, to potentially consider joining the pack. It’s a big ask, he’s not ignorant to that. And he has very little concern about you. His three packmates on the other hand…

Johnny loves his pack and he is not embarassed of them. Let that be said. However, he is aware that his pack is labeled as intense for a reason. And he will be DAMNED if they manage to scare you off in a singular night.

Gaz is probably the easiest to address. Kyle can be heavy on the flirting, maybe a little forward. Johnny is insistent that the goal is not to fuck you on the first date. Kyle scoffs like he’s personally insulted that Soap thought he could be anything but a gentleman, but he agrees to the bullshit terms.

John is next. John grew up in a very traditional household and sometimes he’ll say or do something that is meant to be harmless but can come off as controlling. Johnny may not mind it all the time, and when he does he will make it known. But you are not Johnny nor are you John’s omega yet. So Soap is insistent that this is a neutral meeting. John does his best not to roll his eyes, but he finds it kind of charming how much Soap wants you to like them all. So he agrees to calm Soap’s frantic energy.

Simon is probably the worst. A big, fuck off alpha with no care for social conventions. And Johnny knows he’s going to have an issue when Simon tried to pocket the scented-scarf you gave them and stiff-armed Gaz to keep the beta from getting it. Johnny is so insistent that Simon cannot loom over you and scare you off. Simon cannot just randomly scent you, or ask any sort of questions about where you would preferred to be marked. Simon does not care, he has no plans to be deterred. He’s decided already that you’re pack. If you belong to Johnny then you belong to him, which means you belong to them all. He’ll go about how he needs to make it happen.

Johnny goes through all the trouble of preparing his pack. Gives them interesting tidbits about you; your job, your hobbies, any pets you have, fun trips you been on, what you may have went to school for. Things that they can bring up to get to know you better. And he prepared you similarly, safe topics to venture and things to avoid.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really matter. Cause Simon breaks protocol immediately by standing directly over you and sniffing your hair through his mask, grumbles something halfway indecent about wanting to eat you. And that is a great Segway into the rest of the pack seeing what they can get away with.